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| Image credit: Photo by LuluP on Flickr Licensed under Creative Commons |
I'm pretty certain that everyone who passed my daughter Janie's elementary school at dismissal time a few weeks ago now knows me by sight. Yep, I'm that woman whose daughter threw a tantrum so gigantic and so spectacular that it took us over a quarter of an hour just to move to the front of the school and strangers felt moved to ask if she needed medical attention. I'm the woman who stood there for more than a half an hour next to a six-year-old girl who was sprawled on the sidewalk, as people passed by with nervous glances asking if everything was ok.
Yes, everything is ok. First grade is just hard, and tiring, and this has caused our mother/daughter relationship to devolve into a hostage situation. The hostage being me. Her demands are: 1) a juice box right now, 2) that I carry her backpack, 3) that I carry her, 4) ice cream upon arrival home. Otherwise she is not moving, nuh-uh, no way; she's going to sit here and cry until it gets dark and then sleep on the sidewalk. (This is her actual plan.) My position is that I do not negotiate with terrorists, I do not have a juice box anyway, I have neither the desire nor the ability to carry a six-year-old anymore, and I'm not rewarding a hissy fit with ice cream. As you can imagine, this produced a standoff.
Now I know that some of you are thinking, "Well, make her move! You're the mom! You're the boss! Demand it!" And believe me, that's what I was telling myself. I'm the mom! I'm the boss! She ought to do what I say! She ought to be enticed with the (non-ice cream) snack that awaits her at home, and she ought to be mortally fearful of the consequences of her behavior. Yet she didn't care at all. Have you ever seen a donkey just refuse to move? You can yell at it and beat it and push it and drag it and still it stands there stubbornly. I had a little donkey and had neither a stick big enough nor a carrot tasty enough to induce movement.
So there we stood, until we were each able to bend just enough to reach a mutually agreeable settlement: I would not carry her but would let her lean on me, and I would carry her backpack, but in return she would have to downgrade for a week to her preschool backpack which was smaller, lighter and much less cool looking. So, an hour later than usual, we staggered through the front door looking precisely as if we'd just fought a war: me, sweaty and disheveled and Janie with debris clinging to her hair and her grimy face streaked with tears.
As expected, a snack and a rest on the sofa greatly improved the matters, but the ceasefire ended at bedtime, when Janie refused to get into bed.
"Time for bed."
"No."
"Janie, get in bed now."
"Or else what?"
Or else what? Who did she think she was talking to? Or else this!
Now, we must pause for a moment to allow you to imagine "this." I find that whenever I divulge my specific parenting methods, it distracts from the story I am trying to tell. People get caught up in the details. So at this point, don't think about what I did, imagine what a good parent (whatever your definition of that is) would do. Imagine what you would have done. If you would have spanked her, spank her in your mind. If you would have told her "no story tonight," then no story. If you would have made a sticker chart for nice talk, go make a sticker chart. If you would have lifted her firmly into bed and left the room, go do it.
I did what you would do. I did what I thought was going to have the effect I wanted. I called on the examples of parents I knew and admired and did what I thought a "good" parent (whose children do what they are supposed to do) would do. Furthermore, I did it calmly and firmly. I even used what Janie calls my "stun voice" (which I think is a variation on "stern voice").
But here's what you have to imagine now (and this is the hard part): imagine it didn't work. You spanked, she cried louder and refused harder. You told her no story, and she screamed, "I don't care! I'm not going to bed!" You offered ice cream or stickers, and she told you she wanted that plus fifty thousand dollars right now. You put her in bed and and she jumped back out and tried to run out of the room. Whatever you did, the situation escalated, she got more adamant and more upset and still was not in bed. And if you tried again, she escalated the situation still further.
That was where I was. We were getting nowhere, and I was in despair. Here I am doing what everyone I admire says a good parent is supposed to do and my child is acting like a complete nightmare, thus proving that I am a bad parent. I don't get it. Why am I so bad at this? What the hell am I supposed to do? What have I done already to make things this bad? I can't even ask anyone for help, because then I'd have to admit to how much I've clearly somehow screwed up already.
That's when the answer came. Beyond the point where Janie was kicking and screaming on the floor, a book on her bookshelf caught my eye. Actually, a single word in the title caught my eye: God. Cheesy, huh? The old me would want to punch me for something like this, but I thought "No, wait. That's it! God's will, not my will!" I knew what my will was: I wanted to be a good parent by bossing Janie into bed. (She's tired! She needs to be in bed!) But what was God's will?
So I took a deep breath and said, "Janie, this isn't working. I'm going to try something different. Right now I'm worried because we're fighting over bedtime. Bedtime isn't something I'm trying to make you do to be mean. We all need enough sleep so our bodies can be healthy, and it's my job as your mama to protect you and help take care of you and help you learn to take care of yourself. I don't want to fight about this, but I don't know what else to do right now. I'm stuck. So, do you know what I believe? I believe there is a God part inside each one of us and if we are quiet and still we can hear that part of us tell us the right thing to do. So I'm going to be quiet and still now and see if that God part can help me figure out what I need to do now. And maybe you can be quiet and still and think — not about what you want me to do — but what you should do for you right now."
Janie stopped crying. She turned away from me and scooched across the floor to where her beloved stuffed animal Gigi lay, and she sat there for a bit, hugging her knees. Then she turned to me and said, "Mama, I think I can go to bed if I show you something." So I joined her, and she showed me a bead she'd found on the floor: "It's pretty, isn't it?"
"Yes," I said.
"Can I make something with it in the morning?"
"Yes."
"Ok. I'm ready for bed now."
"Sweetie, can I give you a hug? I think we've both had a rough day."
"Yes."
So, I gave Janie a hug that felt like melting, like walls dissolving, like peace. Then she climbed into bed. I smoothed her hair, and she smoothed mine, and she was asleep in minutes, holding my hand.
I think you may be brilliant.
I know the feeling of parenting a beautiful little girl that you cannot seem to reign in. Sometimes I handled it well. Sometimes I didn't.
I swear that parenthood is like running a never ending marathon. Hang in there.
Go you, my friend. You are awesome and wonderful, and *none* of this makes you a bad parent. She's doing her job, as a tired little girl, and you're doing yours... incredibly and inspiringly.
Wow. This made me cry. Too real.
That was brilliant, thanks for sharing your pain and joy! Thanks for the reminder and please God let me remember this when I need it!
Grace under pressure - you are an amazing parent.
You may just be brilliant! This is so encouraging (and SO well-written!). Codies can't parent like that! Well done!
You know, parenting is just like any other endeavor we take on in our lives, whether we know it or not the universe is always there supporting us and sometimes like in this brilliant post, the unvivers catches our attention and we actually get to practice our best at turning over our will to the HP we understand...thank you for the most brilliant reminder.
G
You honored your daughter as a real person, one with wants, needs, and ideas of her own. You showed her respect and in the end didn't demand that she show you respect or else; instead you allowed her to find what solution lay within her heart and share her thoughts with you.
Brava, MPJ. I have the same aspirations with my sons, but they are hard to hold on to when they are being unreasonable. Still I try to respect their opinions and expressed desires with active listening. They might not get what they want every time, but they know I took the time to endeavor to listen to them and thoughtfully considered their POV.
I'm going to remember this story the next time one of them isn't meeting my expectations. We call "the God part inside of us" our Buddha spot. When Luigi gets emotionally constipated and I am frustrated beyond words, we hold hands and take the time to take deep breaths together and make our inner Buddha nice and fat with each breath. When we come back to the conversation, we are refreshed and more open to the moment.
Gosh, this parenting stuff is hard. Btw, Way to go Janie for finding a way out of her discontentment! Her ability to move on to an acceptable resolution that worked for her proves what a great Mama you are. She's lucky to have you.
Though I am not a parent, I can totally relate to this scenario when it comes to my addict husband. (Yes, sometimes our fights can seem like a first grader temper tantrum. And sad to say, it's not always him throwing the tantrums). Someone in my meeting metioned this week, if we are bending over backwards & it's becoming extremely difficult, then it's probably not God's will at the moment. It's funny how you're story brought that important lesson full circle for me. Thank you for sharing! I'll try to remember this the next time I'm in a pinch.
That is wonderful. I'm thinking that this brought you and Janie even closer, if that's possible. What a great solution.
My oldest is in first grade this year, too. She didn't go to school last year (I homeschooled her). I can really relate to what you're going through- the battles over things that shouldn't be battles, feeling exhausted when all you want to do is feel connected to your child.
I think a big part of being a good parent is learning how to relate to your child as an individual. It's easy to be a bully and "make" them bend to your will - it takes a brilliant and caring parent to find a way to relate to your child as a separate human being who is worthy of your love, attention, and respect.
Good on you.
Oh my, I know that little girl and I know that standoff. Alba was fiercely stubborn (still is) and no amount of "perfect" parenting methods put a dent in her willfulness. Everyone had their solution and were front and center when it came to telling me that all I needed to do was XYZ and she would stop. Fat chance.
Anyway, I didn't have a God moment, but I had an Aha! moment with a book. It was a book on teaching sign language to children, and for some reason it just hit me that learning sign language would be the solution to Alba's temper. So I bought the book, and learned some basic signs immediately. The next time she threw a temper tantrum because she was hungry/angry/lonely/tired, I started signing to her. It stopped her mind. It stopped her tantrum. Then later, I taught her some signs, particularly any related to getting the things she needed that would cause tantrums in the first place. To this day, she still signs to me that she is thirsty if we are in a situation that she can't get a drink for herself and she's feeling anxious.
Anyway, I know that day, and that moment when you find the right thing to do is beautiful.
MPJ, nothing -and I really do mean nothing- in this world has ever made me want to have kids more than you do with this example of beautiful parenting. No worries, I'm not unleashing my genes on this world, but honestly - this is inspiring as a method of understanding another human being, of teaching a child to communicate her needs and to let go of struggles that only hurt our energy.
You are a wonderful teacher.
We've all been there! Excellent solution to a tough situation-good job, Mama!
Great story - I was talking to some parents about some of the monumental tantrums that our school has seen. I remember a few classics from other kids as well as my own. I love other kids' tantrums, reminds me that I'm not alone, and to see the comedy in my own kids' performances.
I have similar bed time battles with the 4yr old weekly (improving recently, though) and they tend to follow a similar script, with the time to me reaching calm explanation of why he needs to sleep for his own sake being directly proportional to how tired I am.
Whether you call it the god bit inside you, the Buddha spot or just faith in a child's ability to make good choices for themselves with the right support*, believing in our kids is key to whatever "good parenting" is, I suspect.
*Why am I not surprised my description is the most long winded?
My cousin blogs about mindful parenting--about staying present in a situation--to staying present to what's in it, and to its possibilities.
In reading your story what came to me, is that part of being present, is that you don't have to be aware that you're present.
In your case you truly let go, in that moment, and that permitted the miraculous shift.
I so aspire to that--to the ability to be so present in myself so these moments can occur--where without realizing it even I'm choosing connection instead of dominance.
Thank you for this beautiful story.
How have we not met? Very odd, especially considering we are raising the same daughter.
My cousin (Excavator, above) referred me here and I'm so glad. I aim to remember your example the next time my child and I are lock-jawed in opposition. You remind me to open my heart and mind to inspiration? to the Divine? at the exact moment I am at risk of shutting down.
Thank you.
You did good.
xo
LBC
They all said it already, so I'll keep this short: Fantastic post! Thank you!
I just LOVE this post!