Respond with Sensitivity – Page 47

AP and Spanking Don’t Mix

Many parents, even many of those who are focused on creating a secure attachment with their child, spank as a form of discipline. They may say things like…

“I only spank when….”

“I only spank after I’ve tried [XYZ] first.”

“Spanking is OK when it’s done [a certain way], but not [a certain other way].”

“We did attachment parenting when our kids were infants (past tense).”

“We follow AP, but believe in strong discipline for obedience.”

“We are AP, except for spanking.”

Attachment parenting is about raising children using parenting methods that strengthen relationships, foster empathy, and teach nonviolent communication. Spanking may elicit appropriate behavior in children, but it is a technique that, no matter how it is administered, does not support a secure attachment; it does not meet kids’ emotional needs, and it functions against the goals of AP (communication, connection).

Attachment parenting has no end date. It is not a stage or a phase, but a mindset. It’s a perspective that permeates the relationship between a parent and child and all of the interactions they have together. So, the parenting goals that AP moms and dads have when their kids are infants are the same goals they have when their kids are older; communication, connection, respectful relationships.

Just because children outgrow infanthood, doesn’t mean they outgrow those needs. And just because parents may be focused on teaching their kids appropriate behavior doesn’t mean they should ignore the principles that drew them to AP in the first place.

The goal of attachment parenting is connection, not obedience. There is simply no attachment-promoting way to spank.

There are, however, attachment-promoting ways to discipline; to teach children those necessary elements of behavioral limits, expectations, and accountability, while still prioritizing the parent-child relationship. Positive discipline accomplishes this. The tools of positive discipline fit well within the context of attachment parenting because they follow the “And” principle…

I want to teach my kids how to behave appropriately and I want to prioritize our relationship.
I want my kids to be accountable for their behavior and I want to respect them (their autonomy, their development).
I want to parent with firmness and kindness.
I want to let kids know what is expected of them and I want to stay connected to them.
I want to teach my kids respect and I want to facilitate communication between us.

It is common to equate positive parenting with permissive parenting. As children outgrow the AP practices of infanthood, parents frequently believe that they must “establish control” of their children, expect obedience, and enforce boundaries. For without limits and authority, children “rule the roost,” right?

Yes, children certainly need limits. Yes, they need clear boundaries. Yes, parents must communicate their expectations and hold kids accountable for their behavior. And yes, parents can teach kids these things without punishments, without threats, without inducing fear, and without spanking.

At the start of her 7-week Positive Discipline classes, author and parent educator Jane Nelsen asks parents, “How many of you would try one other parenting tool before you spanked?” Inevitably, every hand goes up. She continues and asks, “How many of you would try two things before spanking?” Hands stay up. “Three things? More?” And still, the hands stay up.

So, many parents are, indeed, aware of the limitations of spanking. Many parents spank because they are exasperated with their child’s behavior and want it to stop but don’t know what else to do. This is exactly what Positive Discipline classes do; they give parents new tools for disciplining effectively and non-punitively, while fostering and maintaining an emotional connection with their children.

As children outgrow the practices of AP such as breastfeeding, babywearing, and co-sleeping, they grow into other ones. Different techniques accomplish the same attachment-oriented goals: connection, security, respectful communication. It is possible to fill parenting toolboxes with a supply of non-punitive, connection-enhancing alternatives to spanking.

There are many. Some are in-the-moment reactive, while others are primarily proactive. All are able to accomplish the same results as spanking (setting limits, expecting accountability, teaching kids appropriate behavior) but with the important element of respect. These are just some (very condensed) examples taken from the set of Positive Discipline Parenting Tools:

Positive time out—both parents and children can take take time to cool off and access our rational brains.
Focus on solutions—move from thinking, “What can I do to get through to you?” to “What can we do to solve this problem?”
Wheel of choice—brainstorm solutions to everyday conflicts to give kids choices in problem solving.
Distract and redirect—turn a “don’t” into a “do.”
Eye to eye—communication becomes more respectful when you look into your child’s eyes.
Hugs—for children and parents alike; we all do better when we feel better. Physical affection restores brain chemistry to a calm, rational state.
Limited choices—provide small steps in shared power.
Listen—your children will listen after they feel listened to.
Use mistakes as opportunities for problem solving, not punishment.
Validate feelings—don’t fix, rescue, or talk children out of their feelings, and have faith in them to work it through.
Agreements—brainstorm with a child to find a solution everyone can agree to. If the problem occurs, remind the child, “What was our agreement?”
Connection before correction—when emotional connection is in place, the need for correction is greatly minimized.
Break the code—misbehavior is an external code for an internal problem; get at the root of the problem and the behavior will change.
Empower your kids—share control to help kids develop skills to have their own power.
Natural consequences—allow kids to experience the natural consequences of their choices without interference from you.
Encouragement—a misbehaving child is a discouraged child and needs to be encouraged rather than made to feel worse.
Use nonviolent communication—Speak in acknowledgements, “You feel hurt and you need someone to understand,” rather than in judgments, “When will you ever learn?”
Take time for teaching—teach kids what to do and be patient with the learning process.
Special time—schedule regular one-on-one time with each child.
Curiosity questions—ask questions to understand the child’s intentions, motives, feelings and needs.
Show faith—have faith in children to handle their mistakes.
Sense of humor—turn discipline into playful parenting.

And there are even more. Not all tools are applicable to every situation, and some tools work better in combination with others. Every situation is different with every family. For more information and explanation on the tools, you can take a class near you or get the Positive Discipline Parenting Tool Cards.

Parenting non-punitively is definitely more time consuming than administering a spanking, but it is infinitely more valuable. A trusting, encouraging, secure relationship is possible with our newborns, grown-up children and every age in between. It affects how they see themselves and how they relate to the world, and it starts now.

I’m Not Alone

Benjamin’s in my arms right now. Quiet, sleeping, calm. I’m watching him like an oil painting in a museum. My tiny giant one year old. I study his face and body. His ears have grown; they are now the size of apricots. His hair curls with the humidity. I study his sounds. His tiny snores zigzag under his breath. When he is asleep I am Wonder Mom. When he is overdue for a nap and I am in need of a sleep myself, I am Awful Mom.

The fight to go down for this nap lasted 30 minutes, seemingly like hours through toddler twists and mounts, crying screams that only escalated in decibels, cocooning into a curved ball on my shoulder, head butts to establish prime shoulder rest real estate, and a tenacious one year old desire to stay awake.

I tried the breast first. It used to be my go to sleep inducer. Doesn’t really work anymore; he filled up –recharged and energized, hips spinning from back to belly to knees to movement, pointing to things with toddler immediacy and curious craft. Saying “Dis, Dis,” and trying to unravel the mystery of each object. The air purifier: white like a Storm Trooper, sleek and tall, shiny, huffing out Darth Vader voices of puffs and curled noise with electric royal blue lights humming back and forth like an elevator. The light on the side table to the left of the mattress on the wooden floor — its cord now tucked secretly behind its back. The light, a montage of balls and gloves – football, basketball, soccer ball, and a baseball, all equally interesting to him. “Dat Dat.” He points again looking back at me with the inquiry of a class of eager freshman.

This nap is going nowhere. I start to think about moms who sleep train. I begin to envy scheduled nap time where babies know to nap and agree with baby coos and smiles, snuggling lovies that offer comfort. Teddy bears, baby blankets, little toddler hippos, grey and blue with fuzzy soft down material – some kind of something that will fill in my mom blank. Something he wants more than me right now when I am not soft and snuggly on the inside. In fact, I am dry as the desert and in need of an oasis of patience. I imagine one flowing full with clear streams of mother love. I begin to drool from the thirst.

This patience I barely have is wearing thin, like dough rolled out in transparent flakes. I suddenly am desperate for him to go to sleep. Desperate. My plans on peacefully napping with him to catch up on much needed rest and sleep passes. Quickly, like lightening bugs flashes. I suddenly want wine, sugar, donuts, cupcakes, beer, coffee, carbs, and lots of it. Out. An escape hatch. Where’s the nanny? Where’s the hatch? Oh, I am a Stay At Home Mom. There is no hatch. I even have an acronym: SAHM. I’m the nanny. There is no escape hatch.

He is smiling, grinning with giggles that echo through the room and bounce off the high ceilings of his blue bedroom. I get a cup of oasis patience water and smile back at him. I can’t resist the song of his giggles so gorgeous. I’ve sang him Over the Rainbow over and over the best I could. Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high da da da da da da da to dream aloud. Once upon a da da da da da da da. Way up top on chimney tops and lemon drops you’ll find me, waiting…

Where does the patience come from? Where does it end? It is quick like lightening when that long braided rope runs out, slipping quickly through my layered hands, my layered thoughts. Layered with questions, insecurities, doubts, fields of emotions, floors of frustration, conundrums, lists of things I’ll never do, wishes put on hold, way up top next to the creamed corn, on the shelf I can barely reach.

I’ve got to raise this baby. This boy. My boy, Benjamin. Hold those teeth tight. Lassi whoa, the horses can’t gallop off. I’ve got a family to feed, but the horses patter — their feet below the very ground that is supposed to hold me stable – sturdy – rooted in soil. My curled tendrils attach below this very ground in the garden of motherhood. The horses’ hooves start to become restless—eager to run – to escape – to gallop in a wild childfree shout. I start thinking about news shows and 20/20 segments about moms that start drinking at noon because of the boredom. I think about how having a job outside the home holds me in place. Holds my mind busy, scheduled, engaged in adult synapses of activity and thought. Boredom erupting, flowing over into red pooled lava circles. The containment area – lullabies, swing sets, and gooey gooey talk.

Earlier this morning on our morning walk, I thought about working, how even hanging on the back of a garbage truck would be more active than this. More exciting, as I listened to the men shout and rumble through the quiet morning streets, banging and pounding, creating a symphony of noise like jazz musicians. Strolling down the sidewalk, with my beautiful baby boy, who was taking it all in visually. His mind turning cartwheels and somersaults. My mind – numb with boredom. I was suddenly jealous, eager to be hooting and shouting along with the loud garbage men, bustling with activity on this early AM morning. I thought about interaction. About space. About time. About mind.

I thought about all the people I used to talk to on a daily basis when I was a teacher and now as a SAHM, I have to check in politely for bi-monthly play dates. I’m desperate for daily contact. I used to see my colleagues every day. A comment – a conversation – a break in the teacher’s longue. Something – an exchange of ideas, humor, fashion yes nods. “You look good today. I like that shirt; it brings out your eye color.” A question. An opinion. A complaint. A joke. A dare. A don’t. Something. I don’t get this from Ben, from the swing set at the park, nor does the stroller answer back. Instead, I look forward to bi-monthly mom meet ups. My version of lonely staff meetings where we make small talk about sleep schedules, baby food, and recipes and try to get to know each other through questions like, “Where do you live and what does your husband do?”

I am too open I think, admitting to post-partum depression barely after introductions are made. I stumble long after the group has assembled and disassembled, breaking down the baby strollers, and driving off to each of our own separate spaces. I’m still yearning for a 9 – 5 work day; a 9 – 5 play date would work. I ask myself and roll over the video in my sleep deprived mind – “Why did I say that? Where is your filter for goodness sake?” But then a mom I have just met clicks like links in a set. She laughs at my blunt cut Grade A honesty and nods her head. Yes, I get it. That’s all I need to hear. I’m not alone.

Quiet is Okay

Early on, I remember being in new groups and being shooed away to “go play with the kids.” I have memories of not really wanting to play with a bunch of kids I didn’t know, but they would look like they were having fun. So I’d force myself, thinking that I might end up having fun too.

From age 8 to 17, I was the first one on and the last one off the school bus. I’d board close to 6:00 a.m., groggy and not quite warmed up for exciting conversation. I wanted to stare out the window and get lost in my own thoughts. Problem was, social convention dictated that one should spend the entire time socializing. Topics of conversation were usually less than profound – gossip, TV shows the night before, mocking teachers’ unusual quirks – none of which interested me in the least.

But again, I forced myself to participate. This time, it was to avoid being labeled as weird, uncool, or whatever I was avoiding. But I think I knew by then that I wouldn’t be having as much fun as the other passengers.

Beyond age 13 or so, I stopped caring about being cool or popular. I remember thinking that once I entered high school, I could just be the quiet, thoughtful one and it would be okay. If I would have been most content parking myself on a bench with a stack of books, I could do that, right?

Wrong. Instead, I discovered that I was being labeled a new thing – snobby. And that was not okay with me. It wasn’t that I was standing around thinking I was better than everyone, or anyone for that matter. It was more that I wasn’t a giggler, a rumormonger, or a hot new TV series watcher, so I didn’t have much to contribute to most conversations in my circles.

To this day, I loathe small talk. There’s no bigger waste of hot air, in my opinion. Asking questions to learn about a new person is one thing – there’s purpose behind that. But meaningless chit-chat about the weather and whatever sports thing just happened? Torture. But through almost 3 decades of forcing myself to engage in the mundane jibber jabber, I’m as good at it as the next guy. I can even fake being social and chatty. Sometimes you find yourself in a situation where you need to bust it out, and I can.

Most people open up once they’re comfortable with someone. I appear to be doing the opposite. I’ll say less and listen more. It looks like I’m withdrawing, but it really means I’m comfortable enough to show you me, quiet and all. I’m lucky that my nearest and dearest get it and accept it, even embrace this about me. Only one person I’ve come across in adulthood has expressed discomfort with my silence, but she has her own issues that I couldn’t even begin to help her with, so I’ve got to just shrug it off.

But enough about me. What does this have to do with parenting?

Remembering my own childhood and observing other parents I’m around now, I think kids get undue pressure to be socially “normal,” whatever the heck that means. If a child would rather go off on his own to take apart his toys instead of joining group games, we start throwing around words like withdrawn and we suspect they might need autism testing. Couldn’t he just be a curious tinkerer? Or the girl who would rather hang out at the library than splash at the pool with her friends – what difference does her choice of activity make?

There’s enough pressure for kids to conform to social and societal pressures without parents adding to it. I want my children to know that Mom and Dad would never want them to pretend to be something they’re not. I hope the freedom to be themselves can start in the home, and that they feel free to be themselves in whatever circles they choose. Judgments, criticisms and all.

Letter to that smart person with smart kids

Before anyone gets all paranoid, know that this goes for all ridiculously intelligent people with intelligent children. And know that I have astronomical standards for what constitutes plain ‘ol intelligent, much less ridiculously intelligent, so by nature, very few qualify. But if you do…

I’m watching you. I’m making note of your every move. I’m listening to what other people are saying about you. I want to observe you so that I can do what you did to get your child where he is now, which, I might add, is quite impressive. I’m getting all CIA on you. I’m sniffing around about your past, your kid’s past, about how you handled bed-wetting during the preschool years, and what you said when you found purple crayon on the new white furniture.

No, I’m not stalking. I just need some positive influences among all of the garbage that has become so commonplace. Give me a break here. I am trying to raise a child in a society that prays to the retail gods, a society that admires a woman who looks like she’s smuggling bowling balls in her t-shirt, a society that sees nothing wrong with hanging back and taking credit for another group’s accomplishments (I’m talking about pro sports).

Don’t get me wrong – there’s nothing wrong with cheering on your favorite team. But for the love of Nutella, don’t say we. You ate chips and drank beer while a bunch of guys put in the sweat to accomplish whatever it was you’re patting yourself on the back for.

Just a peeve of mine.

Okay, back to my cry for help.

I JUST PULLED BREAD OUT OF MY KID’S EAR.

I mean, how is he supposed to become a chaos theorist and dead language hobbyist if he’s got a head full of bread?

You can’t blame me for taking notes on the geniuses of the world. Whatever I’m doing isn’t working. I’m like, oh no, you just put bread in your ear. Wait, Mommy’s getting her camera. Smile! Now, we don’t put bread in our ears…

(I know, I know, mixed messages. But some moments are too cute not to capture with the old point-and-shoot.)

I’m just trying to find the model parents and children out there who aren’t so much interested in the bowling balls and touchdowns (okay, I’ll take mildly amused). Is it too much to ask to want my child to want to exercise the noggin as a matter of priority?

So, the moral of the story is, I’m seeking out the people who get it so that I can get it too.

For the record, this doesn’t even scratch the surface of the parenting pressure I put on myself. Time to lighten up, perhaps?

What is Misbehavior?

“Children don’t misbehave, they simply behave to get their needs met.”

This quote comes from Dr. Thomas Gordon, but other psychologists and parent educators have said the same thing. Dr. Jane Nelsen devotes a whole section of her book, Positive Discipline, as well as lessons in her parenting classes to understanding children’s mistaken goals of behavior. The underlying concept is that behaviors like crying, whining, tantrums, lying, hitting, destroying property, etc. all stem from a child’s unmet need. There is something that child is needing that they’re not getting, so they behave in a way to try to meet those needs. Dr. Nelsen calls them “Mistaken Goals” because the child is often mistaken about how to behave in a way to meet their need

Last week, I saw a lady set a full cup of iced coffee next to her on the bench near where her 1-year-old daughter was toddling around. The little girl kept going over to it and picking it up, wanting to turn it over. The mom continually called her “naughty” and asked if she needed a time-out. If this mother understood the relationship between needs and behavior, she’d know that her daughter was not being naughty and that a time-out won’t solve anything. At one year old, this child’s need is to explore her environment using all of her senses; she is not misbehaving, she’s doing exactly what a one-year-old needs to do.

Looks like someone "needed" to see if the cake was cool!

We all behave in ways to get what we need. If I need something to eat, I’ll go to the kitchen and make myself some food. If need some order in my life, I’ll clean my house. If I need a renewed sense of community, I’ll turn on my sociability as I make an effort to connect with friends and neighbors. If I’m feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated, I might subconsciously distance myself from others as I attempt to carve out some alone time for myself (if I don’t realize what I need), or I might just say, “Hey, I need some alone time,” (if I do).
Continue reading “What is Misbehavior?”

Children Talking to Adults

My two and a half year old Jacob is very friendly. It could be because he’s my second child, and so he has benefited from my more relaxed parenting this time around as well as being doted on by his adoring older sister. It could be because he’s a Leo, the sign of nobility. It could be because I’ve never discouraged him from greeting friends and strangers alike. Or it could just be who he naturally is. But whatever the reason, Jacob takes it upon himself to personally greet every person he meets in his day-to-day life.

On the playground, for example, he often walks up to other children and introduces himself. It sounds something like, “Hi! I named Jacob!” His words are clear to me, but not everyone may understand what he’s saying or who he’s addressing. And so, often, other people ignore his efforts to strike up a conversation. I find it more than a little disheartening, quiet honestly, especially when the person ignoring him is another parent of a toddler. I can’t imagine that I would meet with the same reaction, if I walked up and introduced myself.

Luckily, Jacob is totally unfazed when people ignore him. He just introduces himself a few more times, until finally some notice is given. Or if that doesn’t happen, he moves on to the next person, and often meets with better results. It doesn’t occur to him, at his age, to wonder why someone isn’t paying attention to him. It doesn’t appear to lead him to doubt himself or question his place in the world.

Jacob and his big sister Hannah explore the park

But as I watch my son go out and try to make friends with limited success, I reflect on what it’s showing me about the way we view children in our society. The truth is that children are not accorded the same kind of respect as adults. We don’t feel that it’s necessary to give them our attention in the same way. We don’t offer them the same kind of space to express themselves, and we don’t value what they have to say. Sometimes, even if we’re parents ourselves. Sometimes, even if they’re our own children.

One of Attachment Parenting International’s guiding principles is responding to our children with sensitivity. For older children, this includes showing an interest in what they’re doing. I have to confess that I don’t always do this as well as I could. I’m not always the best at getting down and engaging my children on their level. And sometimes I don’t hear them myself, when they’re talking to me and my attention is elsewhere.

I’m constantly striving to improve, though. I’m working hard to respond sensitively, and to provide my children with a safe and supportive environment to explore. And so I stand back and watch as they strike up conversations with children and adults at the park. I let them navigate social interactions on their own as long as they’re safe and happy. And I hope that other people will respond to them with the same sensitivity that I strive to display for all children. Because, really, every child deserves that.

Have you ever had the experience of watching other adults ignore your child? What was that like for you? And how do you respond when it happens?

In a strange land…

Imagine you’ve just had done some dental implants in Chicago. Your deadened nerves make your mouth droop on one side. You’re drooling, but you don’t know you’re drooling because you can’t feel your face. Your tongue feels like it doesn’t quite fit in your mouth. For more tips, you can refer to this site.

And then, the phone rings. Someone’s calling about that job you’ve had your eye on, or the hard-to-reach medical billing department has just one more question to resolve the expensive mistake on your statement. You try to respond. You carefully coordinate your mouth muscles, but it’s useless. As much as you try to form words, they just don’t come out right. After a few tries, you start to sense frustration in the voice on the other end. The other person makes a snide comment before giving up and hanging up.

Imagine hiking in a new place, exploring as you go. You’ve just discovered the most fascinating artifact. You climb a few rocks to get a closer look. You’re able to reach it, touch it, marvel at it. Then suddenly, someone twice your size appears out of nowhere, pries it out of your fingers and hides it, for no apparent reason. He mumbles something in another language, and disappears.

Imagine dozing off after reading your child’s favorite book about giants. You start to dream about wandering around a strange, large world built for giants. The stairs come to your waist, you can barely peer over the dining table, and your drinking glass is the size and weight of a landscape planter. You spend your day trying to navigate this world, only to find that you’re constantly falling, running into things, breaking things, and spilling things.

Now, imagine these annoying obstacles are here to stay for a while. And imagine every time you make a mistake, a policeman pops out of nowhere, starts barking through a bullhorn and whacks you on the rear with a billy club.

Am I that far off from the way a young child experiences life?

The next time our frustration starts to peak, let’s try to remember how new, complicated, fascinating and big this world seems through the eyes of our little ones.

I am not raising obedient children…

...nor do I want to. Not that I would rather have disobedient kids, but…actually that’s closer to the truth. What?! (You say.) What crazy parent would want this?

To me, the word “obedient” has such a negative connotation when used in reference to raising children. It literally means to obey. As in, orders.

Is that what parenting is? Ordering our children through their youth? I guess it would be nice if my kids followed my orders just because I said so. Put your toys away. Eat this food. Find new friends. Date this person, not that person. Take this job, not that one. Have your first child by this date. Buy a house at this random location on the map, just because I said so.

If we are teaching our kids to be “obedient,” at what point do we stop ordering them around? And what if there’s a strong reason not to obey someone’s order? A “good“ child — one who is taught to be obedient — might not have the forethought to see a situation through.

I don’t want children who obey without hesitation. I want children who can think for themselves, recognize and listen to their feelings and instincts and respond appropriately.

What I mean when I say I’d rather my kids be “dis”obedient is really more like be deliberate. I want my kids to think about what they’re doing, assess the situations they’re in and make internally motivated decisions. I don’t want them to do things just because I said so — though I know that with the number and types of interactions I have with my kids at their current ages of 4 and 6 years old, doing things because I said so would certainly be nice sometimes. All of the questioning, reasoning, arguing and explaining I hear after a simple request does get time-consuming and tiring.

But I appreciate the thought my kids put into their explanations to not do something I ask. Raising non-obedient kids will become very important in several years when they are out alone — maybe with friends or maybe truly on their own; in either case, without parents — and must evaluate an emotionally or physically risky situation. They need to be able to recognize their feelings, appreciate the significance of those feelings, and trust their instincts to make a considerate and educated decision, a fitting decision — not an obedient decision.

Getting out of the mindset that children need to obey parents “because we say so” and instead developing a mutually respectful relationship that inspires independent thinking will be hugely beneficial for my kids and our family in about 10 years. As aggravating as some situations at this point in time, I will gladly take this challenge on now rather than later.