Parenting is Hard, resisting makes it harder

The child is standing screaming hateful words, throwing things, biting, scratching, kicking, hitting… totally gone ‘feral,’ as a friend calls it.

Everyone who has ever seen one will recognize this as an extreme temper tantrum, and just what they look like in a child older than about 3 (and adults.)

There are a lot of theories about how to handle a child whose brain has gone offline, and who is now fully out of control of all higher level brain functions. My personal favourite means is ‘don’t get there in the first place,’ but sometimes shit happens.

When it happens, it is popular to try to ‘stop it’ by doing common things.

Like the withdrawal of support and affection (sending to rooms, etc.) until the emotional expressions are all happy. Yay drugs! Choose uppers.

Like yelling. Yes, because yelling is going to calm anyone’s brain down.

Spanking has its advocates, because that won’t further overload anyone’s sensory input channels. It may push their brain into a traumatized fugue state, which probably looks like ‘it worked’ to some people who don’t know what that brain state means…

Counter-intuitively, what actually works is describing what is going on, in words.

You are really frustrated because that didn’t go your way.

How infuriating! You just want it to not have broken.

It is really important to you to get the red cup!

It feels like this method will ‘give permission’ for horrible behaviour. Kids don’t think that way, so that can be dismissed without really being addressed.

It also feels like this will amplify the feelings instead of eradicate them (the goal of the three options most often recommended by ‘experts,’ as listed above) It won’t, and I can tell you why:

When you have room in your world for the expression and understanding of emotions, they don’t hang around. Emotions are like hunger: feel and understand the message of the emotion and it dissipates, just as hunger dissipates with feeding.

So, instead of leaning away from emotions hoping they’ll just go away (or trying to shout them away, ‘cause really: how can that work?) stop resisting.

The emotion is the whole reality for this child right now, with absolutely no room for the child’s tiny body to hold anything else: learning, ‘getting it,’ the message behind punishment, ‘thinking about it,’ or ‘their attention’ to be on anything but this huge emotional reality.

Yes, even if it is something ‘silly’ like the colour of the cup.

It’s not about the colour of the cup, it’s about the feelings provoked by not getting the colour right, by not being able to decide which colour is right or not being allowed or able to pick the right colour, by frustration, disappointment, rage, grief, sadness, fury, and even by simply being totally overwhelmed by having to make a decision that doesn’t matter –again—about an issue that doesn’t matter but that stops the flow of everything until it’s decided.

It’s not about the cup, it’s about the feelings.

The Debate: Kids and Chores–Part 3

A whole family

Be it resolved that the truth of kids doing chores is: ‘we all need to work as a family.’

How do you know that’s true?
--it’s self-evident: it’s our home and we need to work together for it to be peaceful and healthy

A bit of a circle of logic, there, but how ‘healthy’ is it to put kids in a position of opposition to the people they need to live? How peaceful is it to order people around? How peaceful do you find resistance and rebellion?
--we’re all equal in our home

Y’are not. Who selects which chores are really on the list? Who has veto?
--well, someone has to lead!

Doubtless. Does it always get to be the same person?

‘Leadership’ engages voluntary cooperation. Dictatorship engages ‘doesn’t matter how you feel about it’ obedience (and resistance and rebellion.) What do you do when they choose not to participate?

Perhaps more importantly, what are they allowed to do when you choose not to participate?

The Insanity Box: What Are They Thinking?

During a conversation with a client a few months ago, the topic of 'all those voices in my head' came up. You know the ones, you're mildly wandering through a mall with a child who, upon reflection, probably isn't wearing the cleanest clothes, and their left shoe is untied and you aren't up for the struggle of getting it tied today, and you just realized you don't even know where a hairbrush is... and you catch sight of one of those faces in the crowd. Someone looks at your child, makes a face like it's encountered a bad smell, and glares at you.

Is there anyone who doesn't immediately roll out the litany of all the things that face is thinking?

• why isn't that child in clean clothes?
• who is that incompetent mother?
• doesn't anyone love the child enough to tie its shoes?
• let us hope that scraggly woman is the babysitter, although whose poor judgement hired her?
• is hair brushing out of style?
• parents should have to pass competency tests...

While it would be fun to list all the other potential things that face was actually thinking... 

'my kid was such a brat at that age...'

'that mom sure has it good, she didn't have to listen to my mother criticizing everything about her... '

'I hate being reminded of my deceased child in malls... '

'I wonder if my daughter will ever let me see my grandchild... '

'I hated being a child, I was never allowed to be so free...'

Yeah, that's fun... 


...but the problems parents face aren't just that they're no good at telepathy, and worse at predicting what anyone around them is likely to be thinking at any given moment --however good they are at accurately guessing the mood.

The problem is that the voices that give such snarky and vile tones to the words in those thoughts are supplied within the parent's head, not from outside.

At some point in our lives, we have heard, half-heard and half-understood a great deal of emotionally-loaded criticism. 

That we don't remember when we first heard them, or what the context was or even who it was who said it, or who repeated it, or who we didn't hear or notice contradicting it at the time is... interesting, but not really worth spending a lot of time exploring, in my opinion. The issue is right now, today, and the hit our self-esteem gets from our own minds when the litany is replayed, and replayed and replayed...

Terry Pratchett, in Monstrous Regiment, describes a deceased god, who is now nothing more than reflections and echoes of prayers and requests, 'nothing but a poisonous echo of all your ignorance and pettiness and maliciousness and stupidity.' 

A quote which was rolling around in my head when my client described her personal litany of 'I'm a bad mom' that she expects to be going on in other's heads when they look at her.

"Those voices are just your Insanity Box," I quipped, completely out of the air.

"What's an Insanity Box?"

Echoes and reflections, interfering with each other, amplifying each other and recalling each other, voices of half-remembered, half-understood comments from almost anyone, often directed at someone else at the time... and a name gives a person power over it. 

Once there is a name for the Insanity Box, the owner becomes aware of the ownership, and the power of the Witness is developed. 
The Witness is the part of everyone that is the 'me' who says 'that sounds good to me', the 'I' who says 'I feel...' 

Once the Witness is aware of the Insanity Box it can perceive the voices as 'over there' or,

even more powerfully, 'not me.'

From that point on, there is a new way to deal with the litany of criticisms whether expected or imagined: 'oh, that's just my Insanity Box getting heated up again...' 

Eventually, it even becomes possible to see that a lot of people's critical words and harsh tones are nothing but their Insanity Box speaking through their mouths, not what they really think and feel at all. Peace at last...

How Not Yelling Makes for Peaceful Parenting

Long ago, I attended a La Leche League Canada Area Conference. It was a cooperative event, with all attendees asked to help run the show. I was involved in the registration --it was my assignment-- so I know that there were far more than 200 people in attendance, from 8:30 to 5:30 the first day, 8:30 am to 9pm the second day and from 8:30 to 4 the final day.

Beyond being a great deal of fun, there was something... odd about the experience. It took me nearly two days to figure out what it was.

Of course, it was a La Leche League conference on the West Coast, which lent it an odd air of super-granola in virtually every aspect, but I was used to the Islanders and their homemade soap lifestyles. The oddness was something else. Then I figured it out:

No one (seriously: no one!) was yelling at their kids

Virtually everyone attending had kids with them, with few exceptions of national office-level representatives, and one of the Founding Mothers who by that point had a handful of grandchildren and I'm sure wouldn't have thought of towing them to a conference.

Some of the kids were yelling. Some were melting down completely. 

But no adult in the whole building for the whole weekend yelled at any child anywhere I could see.




To say I was astonished is an understatement. I don't think the possibility of not yelling in life had ever occurred to me. While I certainly didn't make it to my kids' late teens without ever yelling at them, or about them, or near them... the conference opened up the possibility in my head that yelling was optional, not natural or necessary.

I'm sure lots of those parents who attended yelled at their kids at some point or other. Why not there?

I think there were two things: a basic premise that yelling wasn't going to help anything anyhow, coupled with a tremendously child-friendly, family-supportive atmosphere. There weren't spaces where kids were expected or encouraged to behave like mini adults (or like they don't exist at all). And that, to me, seems like the core of peaceful parenting.

There is something inherently violent in the premise that children should, or can, be 'little adults.' The very idea insults the core of who they really are: children. 

If they were adults, they'd have fully-formed adult bodies and fully-formed adult brains, they'd understand things the way adults do and would do things the way adults do. But they don't. 

They can't. 

Because they aren't. And they aren't going to just because we have a whole society convinced it's how it should be.

Believing that it is somehow aberrant to create an environment that acknowledges --even welcomes-- childhood's different needs, different pace, different lifestyle; that's just normal here these days. Encouraging violence, whether verbal or physical, is commonplace in the realm of 'how to raise children' advice and theory --even in clinical psychology.

How do we argue that it is possible to raise peaceful children through violence?