Playlistening on Thanksgiving

My husband and I were both feeling a little stressed this morning, trying to get the turkey, pie, cranberry relish, and salad ready to pack in the car and get over to grandma’s house for the big meal. We have two boys 4 and 10. My four-year-old asked me to play with him repeatedly and had already heard enough “just a minutes” to last a week and it was only 11:30 in the morning.

My husband was trying in vain to get our son to take a bath, but he was NOT going for it. He was digging his heels in and was not going to budge. I could tell my son needed a good cry, and I could tell neither my husband nor myself felt we had the time or good attention to listen to him.

I suddenly had an idea. He had been watching me focus most of my attention on this silly bird for the last 24+ hours. (I did a brining process that takes a whole day. It seemed like it would be simple until I got into it.) I asked him, “Will you be my little turkey? Can I wash you in the sink to get you ready for cooking?” He loved the idea. He climbed up in the kitchen sink and I poured water all over him using measuring cups, stirred the water around, and ‘basted him’ with the clean baster brush, with lots of talk about what a sweet little turkey he was, what spicing I was putting on him, etc. I kept talking about which parts of him might be the tastiest. He giggled and giggled while he soaked up all that good attention and the tension in both of us disolved away.

We were both more relaxed afterwards as I gathered my clean boy into the ‘oven’ (towel) to dry off. Such a good reminder to me that just ten minutes of play can change the whole day.

- Kirsten Nottleson in Austin, TX

 

Love Pours Out

I had given a friend a ride home from our women’s circle, and she was telling me how excited and ready she is to have children. I was telling her about the work I am doing with Hand In Hand and how it has really been a lifesaver for the challenging times I’ve had with parenting. She said, “Wow, you must be a great mom!” I kind of laughed and said after a pause, “Sometimes.”

On the ride home, I thought about how I responded and realized that it wasn’t very accurate. What I meant to say was, “I never stop trying.”

When I got home, my husband asked me about my night. I told him about the comment my friend had made and my response. When I said, “I never stop trying” to Tony, it triggered all this emotion and I just started sobbing. I expressed how much I love my two children, and how I’m always thinking about how I can be a better mother. I just want what is best for them as individuals, siblings, in our family, and in the world. I sobbed and sobbed. My husband just listened and I saw tears start to roll down his cheeks.

I have never been able to put into words how I feel. It seemed inconceivable how I could express so much love. Afterward, I felt like a great mother. I appreciated my husband’s patience, time and his presence while he listened to me. I felt deeply connected for being heard.

Because I’m doing Listening Partnerships pretty regularly now, I’m listening more and more to my wisdom, checking in to see if my words are in alignment with what I feel. I’m trusting myself to feel and express. And I see that expressing has an impact on others.

My husband said he felt like the universe opened up for him in a way he had never seen before. I felt his love and appreciation. I loved and appreciated myself. I have been more kind and gentle with myself when I am having a hard day parenting now, and I’m using more laughter and play to connect with my children.

–a mother in San Francisco

 

My Daughter’s Need for a Video Disappears

My 8-year-old daughter wanted to watch a video and eat her dinner at the same time. My husband and I have had a hard time setting limits with her. We often give in to her wants, even though we don’t think it’s a good idea, because she looks miserable when she’s not getting what she asks for. We get confused about the right thing to do. On this evening, I didn’t think it was a good time for her to watch the video, and especially not while eating dinner. So I said no.

She began getting upset, and begged and pleaded. I sat down next to her, touched her gently and said, “No, I want you to have dinner with us.” She finally began to cry hard. I stayed with her, looked at her, and said as gently as I could, “No, you can’t watch the video now. You can eat dinner with us.” After crying a long while, she said she wouldn’t eat dinner at all. I told her that would be all right, that she didn’t have to eat dinner.

She cried some more, then said, “Now I can’t eat dinner because I’m crying so much because you won’t let me watch the video!” By this time, I had gone and gotten my own dinner, and was eating it while sitting beside her and touching her and listening. I said something like, “Well, when you’re ready, there will be some dinner for you if you want it.”

She eventually stopped crying, decided to eat dinner, and was absolutely fine. She wasn’t upset with me, ate well, and dropped the whole idea of the video. Setting the limit and listening seemed to make sure that she and I were in good communication, and this has made me so much less afraid to say no. I now know how to make things right between us by hanging in there while she cries.

— A mother in Marina, California

 

My Son and The Christmas Lights

Christmas stresses me out. I never have enough money or time this time of year. On this particular day, I had just walked in the house with the kids and my son went right over to the Christmas tree and started “fixing” the lights. I had just put them on the tree. He pulled at them, and he messed them up.  And I got mad.

I really blew it. I said, “What are you DOING?! You wrecked it! I can’t believe you did that!” I went on and on. (It’s so awful when you make such a big obvious mistake.) Anyhow, my son put his head in the sofa pillow and cried. So I went over to him. He kept turning away from me. I apologized. I said I’d made a mistake. I asked him if he wanted to fix the lights now and he wouldn’t touch it. I told him I knew he was just trying to help. This brought more tears from him. He was crying hard. He moved away from me. So I decided not to move toward him.

If I move in too fast when he’s crying, it seems to make him angry, and things between us get harder. Instead, I stayed on the sofa and kept talking to him. I kept asking him if he’d come sit in my lap. Then he cried harder. I guess it helps him feel how alone he feels when I’ve yelled at him. After a few minutes of crying, he came and jumped on my lap! I told him again that I was sorry. Then I said that moms make dumb mistakes sometimes, and that this one had been pretty dumb. He laughed, and we were feeling close again. We wrestled and played for a little while. Then I asked him if he wanted to fix the lights. He said yes, jumped up, and fixed the lights.

— A mother in Berkeley, California

 

Getting Dressed with Humor

Desperate, one day, to get my active and resistant 3-year-old dressed, I came up with this game (and other modifications). Maybe it’ll help someone else –certainly we enjoy it a lot!

Me: “Hey David, time to get dressed. Here’s your hat!” I say, waving his underwear in the air.

David: “That’s not my hat, that’s my underwear!”

Me: “No way! Look — it’s got holes for your ears!”

David: “NO!” (gales of laughter)

Me: “Yes, see, it fits perfectly” (putting the underwear on my son’s head)

David: “No!” (more laughter), “it’s for my BOTTOM!”

Me: “Okay, okay — try it.” (David starts to put it on in the right place, while I keep spouting off, and the more I play up being the know-it-all, the more he loves it) but you’ll see that it doesn’t fit. SEE, it doesn’t fit. Brother! Imagine thinking that a hat is underwear. Oh…oh dear. (It’s starting to be obvious that he was right)…Oh…Oh my…but if that is underwear, what’s this?” (Said while holding up the shirt.)

David: “My SHIRT!”

Me: “No way! It’s for wearing on your legs.”

David: “It’s not for your legs, it’s for your arms.”

Me: “My arms…but it doesn’t fit my arms!” I say while attempting to wear his shirt. And on we go (having a former career as a clown has paid off!).

These games are fun for us both, and they get the job done!

— A mother in Winnipeg, Canada

 

Free Teleseminar

Lying, Cheating and Stealing: When Good Kids Don’t Play by the Rules

Free teleseminar led by Hand in Hand Founder, Patty Wipfler

Thursday, November 12th – 6 pm PST – Participate by phone from anywhere!

Telling tales or lies, stealing, and breaking the rules of the game are some of the hardest behaviors for parents to understand. What do these behaviors tell you about your child, and how does a parent guide a child who stretches the truth, the rules, and everyone’s patience?

Join us for this free Introduction to Parenting by Connection teleseminar to discuss the implications of these behaviors and the practical steps you can take to help your child bring his or her best self forward. Parenting by Connection promotes the “super-protective factor” of parent-child connectedness which guards your child against a host of negative outcomes.

At heart, your child is good. Call in to learn how to bring out the best in your relationship and see that goodness shine through.

 Click here to sign up!

 

Helping Parents Handle Feelings in Crisis

This fall, a Hand in Hand parent joined a parent co-op nursery school, where parents have built relationships with each other over several years. At a parent meeting early in the school year, it was announced that one of the fathers in the co-op had cancer and that his condition was grave. Here is this parent’s account of what happened:

I sat back to listen and observe how the news had deeply affected the group. There were tears of compassion and shock. Then almost immediately, tears were wiped away and the group sprang into action. The room was abuzz with questions, suggestions, offers of help, brainstorming all the ways that people could assist–playdates for the boys, dinners, errands, grocery shopping. It was truly amazing. Being brand new to the school I was in awe of the sense of community these families had nurtured, the deep caring, the honed skills of organizing and pooling resources, the generosity of time.

Given that all but one of the parents present were women, I was not surprised by the deeply instilled, unspoken, almost instinctive expectation of ourselves to put aside our own feelings and needs, and FIRST offer help to someone in greater need. Feeling terrified and completely overtaken by an even bigger need to speak out, I raised my hand and suggested we partner up and each take five minutes to talk about and acknowledge how WE were feeling. My suggestion was heard and overruled by further urgent organizing and clarification. I just couldn’t let it rest, so I spoke up once again. I said that we were all personally affected in some way by the news. I said I thought it was important to notice our own feelings so that we could continue to think well about ourselves and this family, and still have some attention to give to our children when the meeting was over.

So we did–with excellent results and lots of gratitude for the suggestion. We emerged feeling relieved, acknowledged, and able to move on to the next topic. Before leaving that day, I talked with the teacher about incorporating a listening exchange at the beginning. of each of our monthly meetings. She gladly agreed and asked if I would facilitate the listening time. I felt very scared and vulnerable for having exposed myself, because I was a newcomer to the group. But it had obviously gone well, and I can do some listening time to take care of those worries.

 

A Big Cry then a “Big Red Truck”

My son was just a little over one year old. He was used to being latched to me, having me always right there next to him. I was lying down with him while he was napping, but got up to do something in the living room.  He woke up without me right there, and he was furious!

I came to him, held him, and listened to his feelings for about 45 minutes, until he felt better. Immediately after that, he said his first sentence!  Until then, he had been putting at most two words together.  He said very clearly, “That’s a big red truck.”  This was directly after crying for 45 minutes.  He cried hard, he came out of it a completely calm child, and then, out came this perfect sentence!  To me, this is proof that crying helped his mind make a big leap in language skill.

 — A mom in San Bruno, California

 

A Gentle “No”

It was morning time, and my three-year-old son had slept a little less than his normal amount. I could sense that feelings were close to the surface. We were in the kitchen trying to get breakfast going. Whatever I said, the answer was “NO!” He was really out of kilter.

I asked if he wanted apple juice or raspberry juice. The answer was “NO JUICE!” “OK, no juice,” I said. “I WANT JUICE!” “OK, here’s your bear vitamin,” I said. He threw it on the floor, “NO BEAR!” He was almost crying. “OK, don’t eat your bear,” I said. He picked up the bear vitamin and ate it. I gave him juice in a sippy cup. He did not want that cup with the little animals on it. “NO, NOT THAT CUP! I DON’T WANT THAT CUP! I WANT THE TRAIN CUP.” He was whimpering, almost crying.

I try to remember to get down at his level to connect with him when we’re having a tough time. I sat on the floor and said, “Well, honey, you can’t use the train cup today because it’s dirty and in the dishwasher,” as kindly as I could. “YES TRAIN CUP!” he said, and started to cry. This was finally the trigger that let him feel his upset. I don’t know what the underlying upset was, but he was feeling completely unhappy. We went back and forth with “I WANT THE TRAIN CUP,” “I’m sorry, honey, but we are just not going to use that train cup today.” He could cry for a minute or two with each exchange.

The crying started when he was standing a couple of feet away from where I was sitting. Gradually we both moved closer to each other, until we got to the point where he allowed himself to sit in my lap, facing me. Each time the crying tapered off, I said in a soft tone, “We’re not going to use that train cup today,” and he could cry some more. This lasted for about 5 -10 minutes until when I said the triggering words, he didn’t feel sad anymore. Then I asked if he was ready to eat breakfast. He said yes, got up, we kissed, and we got on with breakfast. The issue of the cup had evaporated, we were close again, and the rest of the day went pretty well.

- a Parenting by Connection mom

 

Special Time Teaches Me About My Son

Easter Sunday I had a chance to do Special Time with my 14-year-old. First we went to church, and he did his play in church and I was there. After church, we just did what he wanted. We went out to the marina, and walked the pier. This was what he wanted to do.

I very seldom get a chance to do this kind of thing because my husband is the one who normally does these things with him. So we walked the pier. My son realized that we had fishing poles in the car, and he said he wanted to get his fishing pole. So we had to drive back to town to get some bait. These are things I would normally get frustrated with! I’m the type of person that, if you are going somewhere, you have to have everything you need — I’m not going to take you back and forth! But I didn’t find myself frustrated that day, I was very calm. I was actually enjoying it.

We got back to the pier. I wanted to fish, once I was out there with him. But then came the worm thing! I never handle worms, never put them on the hook. But he was saying, “Now, Mom, you’re going to learn how to put that worm on the hook. You have to do it yourself. That’s the only way you’re going to learn how to do it. I’m not doing it for you!” And I said, “You aren’t?”

So I asked this gentleman, “Could you put this worm on the hook for me?” And my son came up and said, “Sir, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t do that for my Mom, she needs to learn to do it herself.” Can you imagine! And I found myself looking at this man, thinking, “Come on, I’m the parent, here!” But he told me, “No, I won’t.” I was getting ready to go ask another guy there to help me with the worm, when my son and both of these guys started talking in Spanish. My son speaks fluent Spanish. Now both of the men were saying, “No, Mamacita!” and I felt kind of outnumbered! It was amazing to see how my son took charge.

I can’t speak Spanish, but he can, and he and these guys were having a really good time. I asked him, “What are you saying?” and he said, “Well, you don’t really need to know, Mom.” And I thought, “Well, maybe it’s a male-to-male conversation, and I don’t need to know. Just because I’m the Mom, I don’t need to know everything.”

I finally got the worm on the hook, and we sat there, and we fished, and he caught two fish. He was OK with that. I really enjoyed taking that time with him. We got a chance to talk. He got a chance to tell me how he’s really feeling about me and about him growing up and the role I’m playing in his growing up. He made me see that I am too hard on him. He does need some loosening up from me in order to explore life for himself. He’s going to make some mistakes, and I need to allow him to make those mistakes.

That whole day, his dimple was as deep as it gets, he was smiling so big. He felt free — I could tell by the look on his face, he felt at peace. “I’m doing whatever I want to do, and she’s gonna do whatever I say.” But it wasn’t in a bad way. It was like, “I finally have got her to myself, I finally have her attention!” I could tell it felt really good to him, telling Mom what to do, and telling other people what he thought, also.

I’m the type of person who basically takes over with her kids. Not that I intend to boss them around, but I don’t always treat them like they’re human beings. They need some kind of control over their own lives. I was able to see this after that day.

So I started this week, as opposed to making him stay in the house, letting him ride his bike to the San Leandro Marina with his friends. I was on pins and needles the whole time. We had a plan. I told him, “Son, you can go. But you need to check in. Check in every hour, just say ‘I’m OK.’ Even if I’m not home, I want you to leave a message on the answering machine, to tell me how you are. I check those messages.”

He followed that direction. Every hour, he checked in–he was gone for four hours. “Mom, I’m OK — I’m at Round Table Pizza, and then we’re going to go back over to the Marina.” He let me know where he was every hour on the hour. I appreciated that. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I have been worried, thinking, “This kid is going to get out there and go crazy, like boys do!” But he didn’t.

He even stopped by the 99 Cent Store on the way home, and he knows I love little figurines. He bought me a little figurine, a music box. He was doing his thing, but he was thinking about me, too. It made me feel really good that I could trust him. I know I can trust him now, as opposed to not giving him that chance to see if I can trust him. He knows how to follow directions. That was a relief for me–a big step. We got through it OK.

So we’re going to spend a day a week, just me and him. And we’re going to do whatever he wants to do, within reason. He does need me, and I saw this. He has been on me, hugging me and kissing me and all this week. He was the kid who would say, “No kisses!” but all this week, he’s been hugging and clinging to me, and saying, “Mom, I love you, you know.” It’s not often that he says this, and he’s been smiling so big. We’ve been close, you know, but we’re going to be really close.

— a mother in Oakland, CA