Tag Archives: motherhood

Playlistening Raspberries

After school, my 6-year-old was clearly off track and needing to offload some feelings. He had been at his little brother since he got in the car, and then on the way home, he started calling me “stupid.” Normally, being called stupid is very restimulating for me, but I had been working on it with my Listening Partner and on this day I felt like I could play with it.

So I said to him, “Oh, that’s not my secret name! My secret name is Kombucha Head, but don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret!!!” So of course, he and his 2-year-old brother started yelling out, “Kombucha Head!” as loud as they could. I pretended to be horrified, worried that everyone would know my secret name. This kept going for a while and I felt like it was losing its allure. So I changed tack and said that I had lots of raspberries* to give them. They both ran and hid under the blankets, giggling together. I pretended I couldn’t find them, and ended up sitting on them whilst they were under the covers. They were laughing and squirming and I sat there blowing raspberries towards them, without being able to actually reach them, pretending to be upset I couldn’t land any.

Then, the two of them turned the game around and started trying to raspberry me. So I played it up. “No, no, no! You can’t raspberry me! I’m the raspberry person around here!!!” I protested, whilst they landed raspberries all over me. After about five minutes of this, they both got up and went off to play together.

They were fine for the rest of the evening, until just before bed. We had a pillow fight. When I told them that it was time to stop and get ready for bed, because I was getting tired and felt unable to keep everyone safe, my 6-year-old kicked me and tried to bite me. So I moved in quickly and held him in my arms, so that he couldn’t hurt me or his little brother. He started screaming and raging and yelling, “ No, no, you are hurting my neck! Don’t hurt my neck!!!”

I was checking in to make sure I wasn’t holding or hurting his neck, and my arms were not even near his neck. I repositioned him, just in case I was somehow hurting him, but he continued saying the same things and thrashing about. This is a familiar pattern, one that I have been working on a fair bit with him. It’s got to do with being held down for stitches, I think.

After only five minutes, he stopped crying, looked at me and said, “I want to sit next to you, Mum,” and we all read a book together. He fell asleep that night quickly, holding my hand.

I was amazed at how quickly the Playlistening allowed both of my sons to connect with one another again, after a pretty torrid time in the car. I was also very pleased that the evening ran so smoothly after our Playlistening and that the night ended so sweetly after a big rage and release of feelings.

* A “raspberry” is the American word for putting your moist mouth on someone’s skin, usually tummy or back or arm, and blowing hard, so that a big wet sound is made.

-Melinda Booth, Queensland

Beyond Breastfeeding

My 2-1/2-year old son was tired. It was past his nap time. As I laid him down for his nap, he looked up at me very lovingly and said, “Can I have some of your milk, mommy?” His voice was tender and sweet.

It had been about six months since I had breastfed him at naptime. We had been through this before. I told him I understood that he wanted “Mommy’s milk”, but that I didn’t have any milk for him during the day – only at night and in the morning – and I let him know he could have cow’s milk if he wanted. He asked again, even more politely, “Please can I have some of your milk, mommy?”

I came close to him and said gently, with lots of warmth in my voice, “Oh, I know you really want some of my milk right now, but I don’t have any milk for you now. You can have cow’s milk or water – your choice.”

Typically, he would give one of two responses. He would either go into a full blown emotional release, with lots of crying, kicking and screaming, in which case I would come close, stay calm, and listen with warmth and love as he told me all about how much he wanted “Mommy’s milk”. Or, he would perk up a little at the option to have cow’s milk or water, and he would be content with that. However, on this particular occasion his response was different.

He quickly covered his eyes with his hands, whined a little, and turned away from me. I tried to come close to him, to let him know I still loved him even though I wasn’t going to let him nurse, but he turned away from me even more roughly, pushed me away with his hand and made a grunting sound “Uh,” informing me that he didn’t want me to come any closer. As I continued to stay with him, he squirmed off the bed, still covering his eyes with his hands, and wedged himself tightly into a small corner between the night table and the bed. It was hard for me to reach him there, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do. It seemed like he was feeling rejected, and I wanted to try to stay connected to him even though he was pushing me away, so I tried my best to meet him where he was at.

I got down on the floor, I sat right in front of him where he was wedged in the corner, and I put my hands over my own eyes, pretending to hide from him the way he was hiding from me. I spread my fingers just enough so I could see him a little bit without him knowing I could see him. With a scowl on his face, he eventually peeked out from behind his hands. When he did that, I peeked too, and then quickly covered my eyes again, as though I didn’t want him to see me either. He quickly covered his eyes again as well, and we both sat with our eyes covered.

After a few moments, he peeked again, I peeked too, and we both covered our eyes again. We did this a few more times. Then, after a few rounds of this, he lowered his hands away from his face, slowly walked towards me, and he opened his arms for a hug. He leaned his head against my shoulder and we embraced for a while. His body was relaxed and giving. After the hug, I held him in my lap so he could see me, I looked into his eyes and said, “I love you very much.” He looked up at me for a few moments and reached up to give me another hug. Then he looked at me and said, “Can I have some cow’s milk, mommy?” His voice was calm and relaxed.

“Yes, sweetheart. You can.”

My son is very cuddly and likes to snuggle, but he doesn’t offer hugs very often. This was a special moment for us…a true moment of connection. I couldn’t give him my milk, but I could give him my loving presence in a way that he could really take in and digest it. That moment warmed my heart, and made me feel grateful for having multiple ways of connecting with my son…not just by breastfeeding, but through loving limits, warm listening and a spirit of play.

-A Hand in Hand mother of one

Helping my Son’s Friend “Unroll” his Feelings

My 3-year old son and his slightly younger friend had a play date at our house. There was a bowl with a snack roll in it made of grains and fruit. Frank picked a muesli roll, as he was hungry. My son wanted to follow his lead and picked what happened to be the last oat roll.

At that moment, Frank decided that he wanted to have that oat roll and tried to grab it out of my son’s hand. My son escaped to the opposite side of the table. Frank got very upset and started a tantrum. I came to the table not knowing what had happened. I just observed that Frank was trying to get out of his mom’s lap in order to get across the table to secure the roll that was in my son’s hand. I asked, “Did he take your roll?” Frank continued to rage.  His mother said that that was actually not the case.

I decided to listen. Luckily, my son did not start eating his roll. We listened. Frank continued to rage. His mom and I reassured Frank that we were hearing what he wanted and that we would find a solution to the problem. Frank was so loudly expressing his emotions that we just got a reassuring sentence in about every 3 minutes or so. We mainly demonstrated our confidence with our facial expressions and with eye contact.

After about 10 minutes, Frank dragged his mom to my son and me on the other side of the table. My son was still holding his roll. His mom loosely bear-hugged Frank so that he could not grab the roll out of my son’s hand. She also did a wonderful job gently keeping him from touching her breasts, which Frank tends to do to distract himself from his emotions.

My son asked if he could eat the roll and I responded, “Please wait until Frank is finished and then we can discuss the best solution.” Frank was getting more and more into his rage. He sweated a lot, and was fighting with his entire body. His mom also started to cry and I put my hand on her back to express my support. I said to Frank, “It’s good that you want it,” and at some later point, “You might get it.” At some point my son offered Frank a bite of his roll. This made Frank even more upset. We kept listening. I again asked my son to please wait with eating the roll until Frank was done and we could all discuss the situation.

After about what seemed like almost half an hour, Frank slowed down and said that he wanted to talk about it. I asked him if he had a solution. He replied, “Yes, I want the roll.” I asked my son if that was okay with him, and he responded that it was not.  When I asked my son for his solution, he replied that he wanted to eat his roll by himself. I asked if I could make a suggestion, and Frank said no, but that his mom could. His mom suggested that they each could have a half a roll, but Frank did not want that.

Then I suggested that I could check in the kitchen if there were any additional oat rolls. Frank was okay with that idea. I went into the kitchen and came back with a few more muesli rolls but no more oat rolls. Frank said that he would pick one of the other muesli rolls. I double-checked with him if that meant that Luca could eat the oat roll, and Frank confirmed that that worked for him.

Frank and my son spent about 2 more hours after that incident together and had the best time playing together, resolving any upcoming conflicts between themselves without needing our assistance.  It was wonderful to observe.

-A Hand in Hand mother of two

Food Fight! Helping My Picky Eater

Usually I do about ten minutes of special time with my three year-old son a couple of times a week.  Although ten minutes of special time always seems like such a short amount of time to do special time with a child, when I’m actually doing it with my son, I find myself waiting eagerly for the timer to sound.  Recently I decided to try thirty minutes.  

For his special time, my son decided that he wanted to have a snack, so I set the timer in the kitchen and we sat down at the table together to eat peanut butter crackers.   In the past, my son has thrown food when he is angry.  But during this special time, he seemed quite happy, and at one point decided it would be fun to throw a cracker on the floor.

He looked at me to get my approval.  I gave him the go- ahead and as he threw the cracker up in the air, I put a cloth napkin over my head and shrieked, “Yikes!  It’s raining peanut butter crackers!”  This got him to laugh and he proceeded to take another cracker carefully out of the bowl and throw it in the air.  Again, I put a cloth napkin up—a pretend umbrella—and said, “Wow!  It’s raining peanut butter crackers!”

I kept looking at the timer I had set on the stove.  I couldn’t believe that the first time I decided to do 30 minutes of special time with him, he chose to throw crackers around the kitchen!  He continued to throw his crackers one-by-one, slowly and methodically, and giggling with each throw.  I continued to put up the pretend umbrella and we had a big laugh after each toss.

Then, about 25 minutes into the session he looked across the table and saw a bowl of potstickers that had been left on the table from earlier in the evening.  He looked at me, his eyes grew big, and with pure excitement he said, “Raining potskickers!?”  I imagined greasy potskickers smeared across the kitchen floor and I hoped more than anything that the timer would sound.  It didn’t.  So I looked at him and said, “Sorry, we can’t throw the potstickers on the floor.”  Surprisingly he didn’t seem bothered by this.  He decided to eat them instead (I think he really was hungry) and we talked for a few minutes more until the timer went off.

At the end of special time I gave him a big hug and decided to sweep up the peanut butter crackers before we got ready for bed.  He wanted to help.  We had a lovely time sweeping together and eventually we got ready for bed.  He put on his pajamas, brushed his teeth, listened to the stories I read, and turned out the light without a fuss or complaint.

The next morning he woke up and said with a big smile on his face, “Mommy, remember it was raining peanut butter crackers?”  When we went to my mother’s house the next evening, he told her about the night it was raining crackers.

It felt great to be able to do a longer session of special time with him and to have just enough attention to let him throw his crackers around the room.  Maybe one day it will be potstickers.

Certified Instructor Julie Johnson has a limited number of seats in her Building Emotional Understanding class,beginning April 28. Reserve your seat today.