How else does Attachment Parenting look like in your home?

Editor’s note: Attachment Parenting International (API) advocates for a parenting approach rooted solidly in research, and continuing research further validates and builds upon API’s foundation.

Debbie Vinall of Upland, CA - hi rezIn June, you were asked to help tell your story through a survey created by Southern Methodist University (SMU) researchers in collaboration with API. We are thrilled to report that more than 1,200 parents participated in this first-ever survey on what Attachment Parenting (AP) actually looks like in the home! THANK YOU! This essential data will help expand our objective understanding of Attachment Parenting. Parents from 49 states and 37 countries responded, and we can’t wait to share preliminary data in early 2016.

Have more to say? Many of you told us that the multiple choice was too limiting, so we’ve created a short, open-ended set of questions designed to hear everything you want to tell us about the first survey and your AP experience. As always, responses are anonymous.

Thanks again for helping us tell the AP story!

Artimesia Yuen, API Leader
Editor, Journal of Attachment Parenting
API KnowledgeBase Coordinator

There’s a monster under the bed

Shoshana-150x150When I was a little girl, I was certain there was a monster hiding under my bed, waiting to grab my feet and drag me under the bed! To fool him, I would take a running leap onto my bed at night. Sometimes I thought that I jumped too close to the bed, so I would do this over again, until I was sure I jumped from far enough
away. This little ceremony would repeat itself every night.

At a young age, children can become obsessive and compulsive, behaving in ways that are quite illogical. I’ve spoken to parents whose children’s compulsive behaviors are baffling and appear in many different ways:

  • One 4-year-old girl obsessed about the star behavior chart her mom made for her. She talked all day long about winning stars. “Will I get a star?” “Will you remember to give me star?” “If I do it again, can I get another star?” Her efforts to win those stars became quite compulsive.
  • One 5-year-old boy became obsessive about the color green, the same color as his table in kindergarten. He insisted on wearing green slacks, eating from a green plate, drinking from a green cup, and on and on.
  • One 9-year-old girl developed an obsession about a girl in her class. She had to play with this girl exclusively in and after school every day, she forbade her to have other friends and her life focused around activities with this girl.
  • One teenager was obsessed about not gaining weight. She studied herself in the mirror regularly, checked the calorie count on food packages, and counted her calorie intake over and over again throughout the day.

free images.comWhat all of these children have in common is a persistent feeling of alarm and insecurity. Our brains are equipped with a delicate alarm system that is intended to alert us to things we should be cautious about. But we can only be careful and cautious when we know where the threat or danger is coming from. When we’re not aware of what is making us anxious and alarmed, our brain invents an explanation.

Sometimes the true source is camouflaged, because it’s too much to bear and the mind has to make up something because the real thing is too overwhelming. When “Mommy has to go to work” is too much for a child, her brain may invent the monster under the bed. When “The teacher doesn’t notice me” makes a child feel unsafe in kindergarten, the green table he sits at each day is the “safe zone” and the color green becomes the “safe color.”

These obsessions and compulsive behaviors provide cognitive back-fill and keep the true source of our alarm and anxiety at a distance. But then they keep repeating themselves, because they only give some temporary fleeting relief from the alarm and anxiety rather than address the true source, and so the alarm and anxiety keep returning and the obsessive-compulsive behavior repeats itself in another attempt to find relief.

Little by little, children discover that they can’t always hold us close, that Mommy or Daddy have to leave, that bad things can happen, that things we care about can spoil or get lost, that death is part of life.  Children can’t really explain why they feel unsafe, and we should not try to force them to talk about their insecurities. We should certainly not use these things to scare them into being good for us, such as, “I’ll give you the green shirt as soon as you put your toys away.” This only serves to increase the alarm.

We need to normalize our children’s worries and fears and help them express these vulnerable feelings. Children need plenty of room for this within the context of a safe and secure attachment relationship. We need to let them know we’re here for them and that we’re on their side.

One of my favorite stories is about a father whose daughter couldn’t fall asleep, because she was afraid of “the monster in the house.” He brought out his tool box and held the hammer in his hand while he gave her a screw driver to hold. Hand in hand, they went all around the house to search for the monster. Then they went outside and circled the house together. No monster.

“We must have scared him off,” the father concluded. Then the two of them sat down together, and he told his daughter about the monsters he confronted when he was a boy and how courage grows. At least for a while, this little girl slept soundly. The experience helped her feel that her strong father was holding her close in his heart and protecting her.

And that’s the best thing we can do for our children — not only when they get obsessive, but all the time.

The sunrise of balance

first-sunrise-1257802It was a Tuesday morning, years ago.

And like many other mornings, I awoke and started into my day. Awaiting me was housework to be completed, emails to be answered, errands to be accomplished and deadlines to be met. If not for my then 6-year-old son, I likely would have stayed in this state of mind.

He woke after me, ready to begin his own day. Within moments of waking, I saw him approach the window and look toward the sky. He then spoke, offering words to describe what he was seeing. In awe, he exclaimed, “Mama, the sky! It’s so colorful!” I turned to him, and seeing his exuberant joy, my heart flooded with deep gratitude. I looked out the window, too. It was indeed colorful. In fact, in that moment, it became the most spectacular sunrise I’d ever seen. My son’s gentle reminder, gifted to me in one sentence, had given me so much.

My sweet son is older now. He’s almost as tall as me, and calling me Mama has been replaced with Mom. However, I’ve never forgotten his message of that morning. To this day, years later, I still carry those words with me: “Mama, the sky! It’s so colorful!” — six words encompassing the gentle reminder to move a little slower, appreciate a little more and pause long enough to enjoy the moments of delight our days have to offer us.

I have served as an API Leader for almost 10 years. In this time, I’ve supported parents in learning more about and practicing API’s Eight Principles of Parenting. One of the principles is Strive for Balance in Your Personal and Family Life. In a busy life, balance may appear out of reach. We all know the importance of balance, but grasping it for ourselves is seemingly elusive.

On an unassuming Tuesday morning, my son showed me where balance can be found. Balance doesn’t have to be a big fanfare. It may come quietly, simply and in the moments you’re least expecting it. It may be found in nature’s beauty, in the laughter of a child or in an impromptu living room dance party.

Wherever it may be for you, I believe it’s there, waiting to be uncovered…a moment, a simple moment, where you’re able to pause long enough to truly enjoy the beauty that surrounds you…a moment to regain perspective on what is truly important. Today, see if you can capture a moment of delight for yourself, and take one step closer to balance.

Diaper nostalgia

Effie2 (2)I thought I kept my car clean and tidy…until my husband walked in the door, waved a diaper in the air and said, “Hey, look what I found in the trunk!” It was quite a surprise — with our kids being 10 and 7 years old, the diaper era is long gone for us.

I placed the diaper on the kitchen counter. I stared at it and felt a sense of relief and a hint of joy. Memories started to flood my mind, and I thought, Boy, how I don’t miss those diapers. How I don’t miss the sleepless nights. I used to joke around and say that my babies had a unique “no sleep” gene. It was a period of five years that my nights were occupied by breastfeeding, changing diapers, rocking babies, monitoring fever, cleaning vomit and such — basically, constant interrupted sleep.

I then felt a tug in my tummy and other memories started to stream into my mind: Aww…how I miss the warmth of their little bodies next to mine. How I miss opening my eyes in the morning to the sight of their beautiful, peaceful faces. How I miss their sweet baby scent, their glowing smiles and their innocence. How I miss the monumental milestones that engulf a parent’s heart with pride and joy.

A few days earlier, my husband and I went on a rare road trip with just the two of us. After about an hour of an unusual quiet drive, he looked at me and said with a tone of concern in his voice, “Wow, soon the kids will not want to spend the weekends with us. What are we going to do?” It was a startling realization. I replied that I didn’t know and added that we will figure it out and maybe we should just do what we used to do before we had kids.

A part of me felt a sense of liberation. My husband and I made countless memories traveling and exploring away in our pre-kids days. Recapturing those days sounded appealing.  Another part of me felt very sad and nostalgic: I couldn’t imagine our weekends not revolving around our kids. I could only imagine how much I will miss their constant presence.

A few days later, I found myself staring at the long lost diaper. It was a stark reminder that the only constant in life is change. It is the essence of life. Clearly, we witness our kids grow, develop and change right in front of our eyes. The challenges, the rewards and the joys of parenthood never cease to exist. They only change.

Today, with the exception of infrequent nights occupied with worry or our nocturnal pets keeping us up, our nights are quiet and restful. Gone are the sleepless nights, the separation anxiety and what at times felt like suffocating dependency. Nowadays, hovering around are challenges of a different kind: Discipline, sibling bickering and school. Today’s priceless rewards include: observing our kids become independent and confident beings, watching them foster their own unique personalities and forge strong friendships, and most of all, I marvel at their ability to face their own challenges, strive and overcome.

Every age and every stage bring a unique set of challenges and blessings. Much like a rose, with all its beauty and blossom, it has thorns. I am facing the challenges comforted by knowing that they too will pass. I am experiencing the blessings and rewards recognizing that they will likely be nostalgic in the future.

The one constant frame is the unconditional commitment and love that comes with the role of being a parent. And, possibly if I can embrace it all, I can endure and treasure the present as well as the future with all that it has to offer.

What does your family’s attachment look like?

Editor’s note: Attachment Parenting International (API) advocates for a parenting approach rooted solidly in research, and continuing research further validates and builds upon API’s foundation.

Stephanie BrownPlease complete a brief, anonymous survey (access using your API Forum login) regarding your experiences with family members and relationships. It is hoped that the information gathered will help move the psychological research and therapeutic community forward regarding the complex needs of today’s families.

The survey should take no more than 10 minutes of your time, and will contribute to a more detailed understanding of what helps — and hinders — familial relationships. Should you desire, the principal researcher will be happy to share the findings with you.

In addition, if you know of any other individuals who could offer input through participation, please feel free to share. Email me with any questions.

Thank you for your time, consideration and help with providing a more current and detailed understanding of family needs today.

Jenn Lewis, MS
PhD student at Northcentral University in Arizona, USA

All of this…is motherhood

yvette lambBefore my son arrived, I didn’t really understand or even think about what becoming a mother would mean. I wanted to be one, but I didn’t know that once my child was here, for me there would be no separation between the person I have always been and the one I became. The line between being me and being a mother blurred almost as soon as I met him, and from there, there was no going back.

It wasn’t just about love, either. There’s this unbreakable, unshakeable bond of course. But there are worries, too, plus an achingly overwhelming desire to protect him, and a physical pain when I cannot.

And at times I have felt overwhelmed by this — who was I now? How had my priorities in life changed so hugely? What was left of me?

People are out changing the world while I’m lost in our little one, and I sometimes wondered if this was okay…if I was important enough?

Yes, it is…yes, I am.

There are many ways to define motherhood, to describe it. For me, capturing each and every grain felt important, because being a mother and loving your child can feel so extraordinary…insignificant…tiny…and huge. To me, all of this…is motherhood:

It is early rising and midnight waking. It is wiping noses and kissing bumps. It is the park in all seasons. It is water, sand and crayons. It is traveling heavy and never “nipping out.” It is laughter — so much laughter.

It is a shift in your relationship. It is rare evenings out. It is talking in yawns and gestures. It is discussing diaper rash, weaning and sippy cups — with gusto. It is toys in the living room and a prayer for more sleep. It is different than expected and more than you hoped.

It is making sacrifices. It is rushing home for bedtime. It is another trip to the doctor. It is potty training and battles with medicine. It is making mistakes, then making them again. It is guilt — so much guilt.

It is living all over. It is excitement at planes…and diggers…and dogs. It is hours in the garden. It is a tantrum at the store. It is forgetting half of what you knew. It is learning so much. It is feeling clueless. It is guess work. It is crossing your fingers.

It is milk and laundry — more, more, more. It is overwhelming, amazing, heart filling. It is nursery rhymes and counting. It is please and thank you. It is the same book again, again, again. It is the everyday. It is the mundane. It is the extraordinary.

It is cuddles in the dark and company in the bathroom. It is a smile. It is home. It is discovering strengths and recognizing weaknesses. It is persistence. It is holding your breath. It is victories. It is losses. It is holding on…and letting go.

It is changing priorities, a shift in perspective. It is odd socks, smiles and worry. It is a million photographs. It is crying and screaming. It is giggles and soft snores. It is losing you and searching again — new, old, different, the same.

It is slow walks in the sunshine and splashing in the rain. It is moments of pure happiness…the highest of highs. It is consuming…bewildering. It is making a mess. It is new friendships and resealed bonds. It is finally understanding your parents. It is marks on the walls and stains on the sofa. It is rejected dinners. It is love. It is love.

It is long days and short years. It is exhausting. It is exhilarating. It is everything.

All of this…is motherhood.

Choose to respond with love

kelly shealer 5It was getting close to time to leave the park, so I told my 5-year-old son he could do one last loop around the trail on his bike. We’d talked before going to the park about how he was allowed to ride along one loop of the trail, where he was constantly visible to me from where I was at the playground with my two younger children, but not on the other loop that was farther away and partly out of my view.

Still, as he came around the back part of the first loop, he decided to veer in the other direction and take the second loop. My 3-year-old son then decided he wanted to follow his brother on foot but couldn’t keep up. Neither could I, far behind my son’s head start and carrying my heavy 12-month-old daughter. My oldest son couldn’t hear me calling to him to turn around and didn’t know we were trying to catch up to him.

I was angry. He knew he wasn’t supposed to ride there. He was making things difficult for me, for all of us. It was hot, and I was already tired. My purse and wallet were in the back of the stroller all the way across the park.

The whole way around the trail. I was thinking about what I was going to say to my son when I finally caught up to him. I wanted to yell at him for not listening to me, to talk about how dangerous his actions were, to threaten that we were never going back to that park — ever!

As we neared the end of the trail, I could see my son up ahead at the playground. I had no idea how I was going to handle this. I was starting to calm down a little, but I still didn’t know what the right thing to say was.

Then my son started walking toward me, and I could see that he was crying. When he’d gotten back to the playground, he’d expected to see me there and was scared because he didn’t know where I was. Seeing those tears made my anger go away. Teaching a lesson could wait. At that moment, I just hugged him and acknowledged how scary that was for him.

Later, after everyone was calm, we were able to talk about what had happened and what should have happened. He was so upset that he said he never wanted to go back to that park. We talked about how that wasn’t necessary and that we’d just plan better in the future. I was so glad I’d calmed down before forbidding him to go back to the park, like I almost did.

My son also told me how he hadn’t understood what I’d meant when I’d told him he couldn’t ride on the back part of the trail. It was a good reminder to me to be clear in what directions I give him and not assume that he knows exactly what I mean just because it makes sense to me.

I hate that he was so scared and upset, but I also know that he learned a lot more from his experience than he would have from me trying to convey how his actions had scared me.

There was a lot that I learned from this experience also, including that:

  1. I need to calm down before responding. This situation would have played out completely differently if I hadn’t had the time walking around the trail to cool down before reacting to my son’s behavior.
  2. I don’t need to have it all figured out — whether in the moment or in the grand scheme of things. I had no idea what I was going to say or do. I had no plan, and yet it somehow all worked out.
  3. Always choose to respond with love. What my son needed in that moment when he was scared and upset was not a lecture or a lesson. It was a hug. It was love. The other stuff could wait, and even when we did talk about what had happened, it wasn’t about punishment or anger. It was with love.

Bringing peace to sibling rivalry

Q: When my son hurts my daughter, I feel enraged, especially when he is grinning as though enjoying her pain. Still, I try to explain gently why he should not hurt his sister. Nothing helps. I would appreciate guidance on sibling rivalry.

naomi aldortA: No matter how gently we tell a child not to hurt another, he cannot hear us. He can only hear that he is “not all right” with us and therefore not worthy of love. Feeling rejected, the child is then likely to lash out even more at his sibling, seeing her as the cause of losing parental love. Our disapproval reaffirms his worst fear that he has lost his place in our heart, and he has no control over his inner drive to act as he does. He may be bored, needing a sense of power through play, trying to get your attention in the best way he can or he may have a deeper anxiety associated with his sister. Whatever his inner drive, he needs you to see the validity of his need.

Siblings are often left to their own for too long and simply fail to get along. Social skills take years to develop. Considering that we adults have not mastered relationships yet, we may as well focus on improving ourselves, especially as we respond to children’s rivalry. Much of this kind of sibling rivalry can be prevented by setting up things in a way that is more supportive of children’s ability and needs.

Bring love, not justice.

When we take sides, admonishing one child and rescuing the other, we cause jealousy, animosity and future aggression. Turning our home into a courthouse, we lose the children’s trust. Instead of helping, we join and increase the struggle.

The child must feel safe to seek your help, knowing he will be cared for and not judged. It is not your job to teach justice. It is your job to love and to facilitate kind solutions that meet each child’s needs. Children who are treated with kindness and observe peaceful, non-judgmental solutions grow up to be kind and peaceful adults.

Instead of saying, “We don’t hit,” interrupt the hitting gently as you validate with, “I see you need to hit.” This creates instant connection and trust. These words do not endorse hitting but instead validate feelings, teaching kindness and compassion. Amazingly, you will also help yourself to shift from anger to care, and you will be able to focus on understanding the valid cause of your child’s action. You can then listen to each child without taking sides. They each have a valid reason for their actions.

If you take sides, children will learn this divisive technique from you and fight even more. If you judge, not only is your son hurt, but Little Sister is learning to see herself as a victim. If she hasn’t used this victim strategy yet, she soon will. She will provoke her brother so he will mistreat her, only to turn her parents against him. Unfortunately, she is also formulating the self-image of a victim. Meanwhile, the grin on the aggressor’s face is nothing but a cover-up for insecurity. He sees himself as failing to be worthy of your approval and is fearful of the “verdict.” His original action was a way of taking care of himself when not trusting that you would help him.

We don’t have to intervene if the children seem to resolve their struggles, and no one is hurt. But we want to prevent setups that tend to bring on rivalry. And we must be tuned-in, so when we are needed, we can show up promptly. Once we enter, we must not exacerbate the division but bring in connection and empathy.

An Example of Listening Without Taking Sides

Sierra grabs her brother’s pile of paper, so he cannot continue to draw. Theo runs after her. He catches her, but she throws the paper all over the place. He hits her. She cries. A parent arrives on the scene and is likely to see the boy as the aggressor.

Let’s look at a couple of peaceful ways to show up as a solution and not as a judge:

  • You can notice the need and pick up the papers, handing them to Theo. Because Sierra tried to get her brother’s attention, you can offer to spend time with her.

No, this is not a reward but a kind response and a correction of your mistake when you did not notice her need sooner. There is no reason for guilt, just for correction. The problem is solved kindly and without useless analysis or futile lectures.

Both children’s needs are met. They are less likely to do any of it again, because it produced no parental “fireworks.” They now have a teacher of peace. The children learn that “who is wrong” is not the issue and that the worthy goal is a peaceful solution rather than a judgement. They learn to ask for your help rather than hit.

  • If Sierra and Theo have already learned to seek justice rather than solutions, be the listener. Listen to the child who is bursting out with his story. Let the other child know that she will get her turn to talk.

Theo: “I was drawing, and she grabbed my papers.” Mom, validating the facts without drama: “You were drawing, and she grabbed your pile of paper and took it away?” Theo: “Yes, and I need it.” Mom, modeling responsibility and creating trust: “I understand. I am sorry I wasn’t here to help right away. Do call me next time, so I can help you.”

Meanwhile, Sierra wants to talk, too. If Theo is done, you can listen to her, assuring the boy that he will be able to talk again as much as he needs. Sierra: “He ran after me, and he hit me. I was going to give it back anyway.” Mom: “So you ran with the paper, and he ran after you and hit you?” Sierra, very satisfied: “Yes, he hit me. So what are you going to do?”

  • At this point, it is tempting to go into a moral lesson: “If you do that, what do you expect? Why disturb your brother?” But then you are taking sides, and your child won’t trust you. She will not be able to discover her responsibility in the matter, because she will be too caught up in feeling hurt by your rejection. Your job is to understand and care for her, not to judge her. She will learn better when she comes to her own realization at this or another time. To be able to see her responsibility, she must be emotionally at peace, secure in your love. With a mind that cares, you too will be able to feel connected and learn how to prevent such struggles.

Mom: “I will spend time with you next time. Just ask. Lets do something together now.” Sierra: “Yes, but he shouldn’t hit me. Do something.” She is very intent on turning Mom into a weapon against her brother. Mom: “I will ask Theo to call me next time.” Sierra: “OK. But you won’t need to, because I won’t take his paper.” She comes on her own to notice her responsibility, without mom’s lecture. Mom: “Good. You will come to me when you need someone to be with.” Sierra, emphatically: “Yes.”

Theo may need to talk again, justifying the hitting. Theo: “If she didn’t take the paper, I wouldn’t have hit her. I had no choice.”

  • This tells you that you have not been responsive fast enough when a need arose — which sometimes happens, as we can’t always meet children’s needs immediately — and your son concluded that he has to solve his own problems in his own immature way.

Mom, modeling responsibility: “Yes, I know. Next time I will pay more attention and be helpful faster. Will you call me?” Theo: “Yes, but she shouldn’t have grabbed the paper.” Again the child has learned to seek justice and to want to see his sister scolded or punished. Mom: “Yes, you are right. I wish I noticed that she needed attention. I will check more often and not get so deeply into my chores.” Theo: “I will call you if you don’t notice.” Mom: “Thank you, Theo. That would be helpful.”

It may not go so smooth, but no matter how long each child has to battle, keep listening and affirming his or her experience. There is never a need to judge, and no matter what a child says, his experience can be affirmed and understood. Your children will not only fight less, but will learn to feel compassion and to get along without winners and victims, seeking peace rather than justice.

Forgive yourself.

You may read this and feel regret or guilt for the way you have handled sibling struggles so far. You are not alone. These ways have been with us for generations. Guilt, however, comes from self-judgement. There is no judgement in finding out a better way. We learn something new, and we take new actions. If your flowers are wilting, you don’t feel guilty — you go water the flowers. Forgiveness, knowing you always did your best, is the compassionate default for all progress.