Well, could you please be nice?

We have a morning routine. If not already awake, I get the kids up at 7am. Josias climbs in bed with me and Shiloh. We talk, sing, cuddle, and rip toys out of each others' hands for about fifteen minutes.

Since he no longer sleeps with us, I have implemented this "in bed" time to reconnect with Josias before the demands of the day begin (because along with those demands come some of the challenging behaviors that Josias and I struggle with). Also, I enjoy hugging and kissing my babies.

This strategy has been somewhat successful in preventing morning meltdowns, which tend to throw us off schedule. And keep on schedule we must, in order to get to school before breakfast is gone, as that would cause yet another meltdown. Our 7am wake up time gives us a full hour to get dressed, eat breakfast, and head out the door. It should be enough, but something inevitably waylays us.

Like today, for instance. We started out ahead of schedule. Eggs and toast had been prepared and consumed, cleared and cleaned. We had plenty of time to get dressed, so the kids were playing while I did some laundry. Great!

Then, outta nowhere, it was time to go. How does this happen? A problem with the time-space continuum? So, I began barking orders at Josias, telling him to get dressed. He continued to play. I "helped" him take off his jammies and asked him to put on his school clothes. He continued to play. Naked.

After about 10 minutes, I'd had it. I told him that if he didn't get dressed, Shiloh and I would wait for him in the car (not cool, and not true). He then discovered that he couldn't find his underwear. You mean the underwear I placed on the the couch 10 minutes ago and asked you to put on? Uh-huh, yes. Those underwear.

In a loud voice, I launched into a lecture about how if he had gotten dressed when I asked, this kind of thing wouldn't happen. The lecture went on for many moments longer than it should have. When I finally stopped, Josias looked up at me and with total sincerity asked, "Well, could you please be nice?"

This should have elicited not only an "aww" from me, but also a step back from what I was doing to take a deep breath and realize that nothing in this scene was an emergency and yes, I should be nice. Firm, but still kind. Always kind.

At that point, however, I had let my frustration get the best of me and my response was, "No! I cannot be nice. I asked you to get dressed many times and now you've lost your underwear!" It did not seem ridiculous when I said it.

I then left the room and recognized the idiocy of my statement and my attitude. It took me about 3 minutes until I was able to go back and say, "I'm sorry, Josias. You are right. Mama should be nice. I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you."

But then, I had to add, "I was frustrated," as if that was an excuse. Josias wasn't accepting excuses, however. He came back with, "Well you should still be nice. You could go like this - he proceeded to make exaggerated breathing noises, inhaling and exhaling several times - to calm down."

He had me there. Yes, I should always be nice. When I'm frustrated, I should calm down before I speak loudly, meanly or angrily. I should always be nice. When I am not nice, I should own up to my behavior and apologize, without qualifications. When I finally said this to Josias, he smiled, we found his underwear and he got dressed.

Later, as I debriefed this episode in my mind, three things struck me:

• Not getting dressed was age-appropriate behavior and was not a big deal. I'd do well to remember that the next time it happens, which, in all likelihood, will be tomorrow.
• I didn't like how I handled the situation and felt that I was modeling behaviors that I did not want to see in Josias. But, what I also modeled, is that everyone, including Mama, gets frustrated and angry. No one is perfect and no matter how much yoga we do, we all lose our cool sometimes. If and when that happens, try to make it right.
• Most importantly I realized that through our day-to-day interactions, I have supported Josias' understanding of what is and what isn't helpful, supportive, and NICE behavior. And, when someone is treating him in a way that doesn't feel good, he can clearly communicate how it feels and what he wants. 

That's not bad for a three and a half year old. So, what I came away with is that sometimes, even if this morning didn't seem like one of those times, I must be doing something right.

Now, if only Josias could internalize the idea that HE should always be nice.

Don't cry!

Will you do some guided imagery with me for a moment? Come on, just play along. Please? Okay, close your eyes and imagine you just had an awful day at work {insert some relevant scenario here}. You go out to your car and it doesn't start! You left some minuscule interior light on and the battery is dead. To top it all off, you left your cell phone God knows where, so you can't call anyone for help. A stranger appears who offers to give you a jump start, so you make it home, albeit an hour late. Now, dinner must be made, while the kids fuss and ask umpteen times for some ridiculous thing.

You may open your eyes now. How are you feeling? Can we all agree that you might just be on the verge of a meltdown, which may or may not involve crying? Now imagine, your spouse/loved one/best friend/family member, or even the helpful stranger from the parking lot walks in the door and finds you in a heap. You begin to feel hopeful that this living nightmare is about to end and that you will get the love and support you need. But, nope. His/her response is to bark, "Don't cry!"in a most unhelpful tone.

Now, you feel better, right? And, you stop crying immediately, cuz ya feel so dang good!

My son started preschool last week. It's a public elementary school in which instruction takes place in two languages. There are over four hundred children in the building. Many of the preschoolers only understand one of the languages being spoken. For some, it is their first time away from their parents and/or caregivers.

During the first week of school, some of the children were having a kid-version of the bad day we imagined above. Many had no idea what was going on, in whose care they were being left and when the hellishness would end. Some were crying. While it didn't surprise me, it did disappoint me, that almost every adult's reaction to the crying was to loudly order each and every child to "STOP CRYING!"

I'm not holier than thou. I have uttered these words. In this situation it was just so strikingly obvious and heart breaking how this is not the reaction a child needs when they are in distress.

I mean, think about it. Leaving out empathy, meeting a child's needs and the like as reasons not to respond in this fashion, what is the success rate of this strategy? I offer that unless the child who is crying is very scared of the adult who issues the order to stop (which is fodder for another post), the success rate hovers close to nadir.

Why do we do it, then? I believe there are a number of reasons. One, is that is is painful and stressful for adults to hear children in distress, so we want it to stop. Now. Two, is that it can become annoying and get in the way of our agenda/time table. And three, we live in a culture where most adults expect instant compliance with their orders, no matter how unfeasible.

The same logic applies to a child who is crying because he is hurt. Can you imagine if you were in pain from an injury and someone said to you, "That didn't hurt. You're alright. You don't need to cry."  Just because we don't think something SHOULD hurt, doesn't mean it doesn't hurt the child, or that she doesn't feel the need for some love and attention. I would seriously dislike anyone who tried to tell me I was alright, when I didn't feel alright, or what did or did not hurt my body or my soul.

Next time you (or I) have the urge to say, "Don't cry!" or "Stop crying!" or "You're alright!" I suggest we think about what might actually be helpful to the child (such as asking if he is alright, a hug, giving information about what is happening, just spending time with and staying close to the child). Although these things may take a bit longer, I think we'll find they have a much higher success rate for making the crying stop. In addition, they will help her feel loved, safe and able to tackle more challenges that lay ahead.

How do you help a crying child?

Photo credit: Binu Kumar

A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

Have you read the children's book, Alexander and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day? Poor Alexander, everything imaginable goes wrong, nobody will listen to him, and nobody wants to help him. Yeah, well, last Saturday, we had one of those on Oakdale Place.

During the week, I'm home alone with Shiloh. Since I quit my job a few weeks ago, Josias has continued to go to daycare, before we are off on our summer holiday. So, I still haven't quite mastered the art of making the weekend run smoothly with two kids under three in the house.  I mean, truly, IS there a way for one woman to manage the naps of an infant when there is also a rambunctious preschooler in the house? 

The morning started at 5am when the baby woke and wouldn't go back to sleep. Although his squeals were of delight, they woke Josias. The day beginning an hour and a half before Mama would like can only lead to heartache.

Lately these early wakings, which vacillate in cause between Josias and Shiloh, have been making for a sleep deprived and VERY cranky Josias. Some mornings are nothing but crying. Crying to get his way, and when said way is given, crying because it was. Um, okay? That's the illogical thought process and emotional roller coaster that is a three year old.

Right, so breakfast didn't go terribly well. Next, we hop in the car, and as Josias says, "drive around in circles (accompanied by corresponding circular motion of the hand)," so Shiloh has a prayer at some semblance of a morning nap. It actually worked. Josias read his Curious George tome and Shiloh slept for forty-five minutes. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. I was feeling pretty skilled in the mothering department.

But then, perhaps due to cockiness, it all went to H-E-double hockey sticks in a hand basket. It just fell apart. Josias wailed about everything; did everything I expressly asked him not to do; and pooped without a diaper on, which not only involves cleaning him, throwing away clothes and cleaning the floor and shoes, it also involves a lot of - you guessed it - crying.

In essence, Josias was doing everything a three year old is supposed to do. Especially in light of the fact that Mama was not paying him enough attention because little brother was teething and needed to breastfeed a lot.

It probably goes without saying that afternoon naps where a disaster. By this point, Mama was at the end of her little rope and was racking up charges of conduct not becoming an Attached Parent.

We were miserable. I knew I had to do something. If I only knew what. What to do, what to do? 

Going back to the book, Alexander is not much help. His day just keeps getting worse, and when he asks friends for help, they ignore him or make fun of him. I had pretty much used up those strategies already. 

By the end of the book, Alexander goes to his mother for comfort. She tells him that some days are just like that and hopefully, tomorrow will be better. Truer words were never said, but I am nothing if not tenacious, so I wasn't ready to give up.

What to do, what to do? By George, I've got it! GO OUTSIDE!

Although the getting ready process took at least five times longer than it should have, with Mama barking out demands in a disrespectful manner that were summarily ignored by Josias, we got there.

We arrived at the park with water sprinklers and Josias blossomed into the curious, funny and awesome guy that he is. Shiloh was as sweet as ever. Mama even displayed a few of her finer moments.

We did it!  We flipped the script on our terrible, horrible, awful, no good, very bad day.  Alexander and his mama could learn a thing or two from us!

Next time I see us going down this path, I will employ the back to nature strategy before 4pm.  Who knows if it will work, but we're gonna give it a shot.

Postscript: As I reread this post, I realized that the strategy was far less important than the fact that I didn't give up, no matter how late in the day. And what I also know, is that I have my mom and dad to thank for that.

What do you do to turn around a bad day?

Photo credit:s Jessica Wilson and author