The kids have been super lucky to have my father-in-law, "Papa", as a caretaker once a week since they were babies. During the school year he is really great about receiving the boys off the school bus in the afternoon so I don't have to rush home after work. A few years ago he started this thing where he issues the kids a letter grade (you know the good old A,B,C,D, or F) when I ask him how things went while I was gone. I'll say, "How was Ryann today, Papa?" and he will say something like, "She gets a B+ for the day. Other than a meltdown because she didn't want to take a nap, she was a model citizen."
Since Distance Learning began, Papa makes it over here to help out for a good chunk of time on most weekdays. Today he came over in the morning, and the plan was for me to head into work for a few hours after lunch. At 11:00, Papa and my oldest boy, Nolan, ran and got our lunches at the school while I helped my kindergartener finish making his paper bag puppet. When they returned, Papa and I got lunch going, and somehow Brock snuck away and started making a fort in the living room with blankets, pillows, furniture, and various lunch items. Then, before I knew it, Nolan had pulled all of the blankets and pillows off of the beds in the boys' room and was setting up a fort underneath the dining room table. I was trying to focus on getting my bag together to head into work, but needed to make a stop in the bathroom. I walked into the bathroom and it seriously smelled so bad I had to crack a window. It wasn't the kind of bad from a recent visit that you know will go away, but that lingering kind of bad that can only be the result of not deep cleaning your bathroom for weeks (I'm gonna give myself some credit here and say weeks rather than a month). Bottom line, it was a smell, even with my exceedingly low standards for cleanliness these days, that could not be ignored. I immediately pulled the seat off the toilet and started spraying things down, before heading back into the kitchen for lunch. I informed Papa there was a change of plans. I was going to stick around, help Nolan finish his school work for the day, and tackle some long overdue household chores. After lunch, Papa and Brock went outside to collect piles of needles we'd raked up in the yard over the weekend, and I helped Nolan finish up his schoolwork for the day. Then Nolan went outside to help the boys, and I went bonkers on the house. I cleaned the bathroom. Like actually cleaned the bathroom; I didn't just wipe the sinks down and swirl a toilet brush around. (Which is what I usually do when the kids are taking a bath, well, either that or I sit on the toilet and drink a beer. By the smell of the bathroom today I think it's safe to say I've been doing more of the latter than the former.) I also tackled the living room, the kitchen, and the three piles of stuff on our dining room table, hutch, and kitchen island. I came across the notice that my tabs on the van are due this month which made me also realize I think I may have forgotten to pay my credit card bill yesterday.... It is currently 3:15 pm and I am finally sitting down to my computer for the first time today. I need to pick my daughter up from daycare by 4:30 (I sent her back to daycare last week. It has been amazing. She even stopped peeing her pants. Don't worry, I'm taking that as a sign. Between my husband and I both trying to work full time, and getting the boys through their distance learning stuff, Ryann didn't need to be peeing her pants three times a day for me to realize she was getting the short end of the stick. With that said, the pee pee pants thing may have been the final straw to me sending her back to daycare. Females are so good at getting what they need without actually asking for it.) My grades for the day: Homeschool Teacher: A- (we even got our art project done today!) Housekeeper: A* Esko School Psychologist: D (the only thing I'm actually getting paid for) *This is what our teachers call a formative, rather than a summative grade. It has more to do with the progress I made over the course of the day, than it does with what my house may look like in comparison to the general population. Two out of three ain't bad. Thanks for listening! If you have any thoughts about today's post or ideas for future topics please leave them in the comments below. Don't forget to subscribe so you can be notified when I post something new!
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Early this week, I was able to slip away for a few hours and go into work. Getting out of the house and enjoying several uninterrupted, socially distanced, adult conversations felt great. One conversation in particular stuck with me all week. Two co-workers I often chat with have grown children in their 20's, at various early stages of careers, relationships, and family. I always enjoy hearing them talk about that exciting time in life. From where I'm sitting (on the toilet with a 3-year-old on my lap, a 6 year-old twisting himself up in the shower curtain, and an 8 year-old yelling for me from his bedroom), I often think about how they've made it to the finish line when it comes to raising children. This week I was reminded, when it comes to being a parent, there is no finish line. There is definitely a line that we as parents we are running toward, but as soon as you cross it, you barely have a chance to breathe a sigh of relief before discovering the very line you've been running toward all this time, only marks the beginning of another race; a new expedition into uncharted waters. When I reflect on my 20-something self, one of two things usually comes to mind. The first one is the freedom...and fun...and adventure I recall when hearing about what my co-worker's kids have been up to. The second thing that will come to mind is, "How could I have been so naive about what I didn't know at that time?" I understand, a critical part of growing up and becoming independent from our parents is figuring out what from our childhood is important enough for us to hold on to, and what we are okay with letting go. We look at how our parents raised us, and in an attempt to learn from their mistakes and missteps, we vow to do things differently. This is how we evolve as people, as a society, as a species. This is also how we can come off as judgmental, ungrateful, and plain old rude to the very people who are responsible for our existence in the first place. My conversation this week reminded me, by focusing in on what I want to do differently as a mother, there are times I've lost sight of the gifts my own mother has given me. Later that evening, after getting home from work and getting the kids fed, we settled into our bedtime routine. As I sat on my bed with my daughter straddled between my legs, gently running a brush through her tangled wet hair until those long beautiful curls felt as soft and smooth as silk, I understood I was there, with my daughter, sharing this moment, because my mother had done the same for me. As I carried on throughout my week, a new awareness opened my eyes over and over again. Without a second thought, while driving in the van, when Nolan asked where we were going, I glanced at him in the mirror with a smile and sang out, "Crazy, wanna come?" and then remembered that same look on my Mom's face as I bopped up and down in the back seat of our baby blue station wagon listening to 96 Lite FM on the radio. At lunch, the day after Brock face-planted into the metal frame of the trampoline, he dump-trucked a bag of salty chips right into his butterfly-taped and swollen eye. Brock screamed, and as everyone around me froze, I found myself simultaneously validating Brock, reassuring him that he will be okay, and ordering my husband to get a wet rag to wipe off his eye. Huh. From spilling a glass of milk, to backing the family car into a ditch, to holding my hand as I fretted over less than perfect news early on in my first pregnancy, I've always been able to count on my mom to lean into a crisis with a steady hand and something reassuring to say. Mom. I know sometimes you look back at times when we were kids and wish you could have done things differently. You wish you could have given the six of us children more. You would have given us the world. You may not of given me everything, but you gave me enough. You gave me what I needed. You gave me your love in big ways and small. For that I am forever grateful. I love you. Happy Mother's Day. Thanks for listening! If you have any thoughts about today's post or ideas for future topics please leave them in the comments below. Don't forget to subscribe so you can be notified when I post something new! Thanks for listening! If you have any thoughts about today's post or ideas for future topics please leave them in the comments below. Don't forget to subscribe so you can be notified when I post something new!About a week before our lives changed drastically (you know pre-pandemic when you could pop by someone's house for a visit) I was over at my younger brother's hanging out. Full disclosure, there may have been some casual day drinking going on while the kids ran wild in his back yard. My brother has twin 2-year-old boys and two step daughters (8 and 10). I am six years older than he and at times have struggled to find the balance between big-sister caretaker and big-sister friend. It's hard to describe the warmth I feel when I observe the caring, patient, and playful nature my brother exudes when he is with his four children. My little brother, who for so long seemed like he didn't have a care in the world. Anyway, in one of those rare moments when we actually got to connect in a meaningful way (the beer probably helped) while juggling the seven children that have become the landscape of nearly every interaction for the past few years, he told me there are times when he lays awake at night and senses the almost unbearable weight of just how much his boys need him. He described the nature of his job as an oil pipeline maintenance crew member, and how he's found himself standing in a hole, or above a hole, or doing a job where the predominate thought on repeat in his mind is "get the job done and get us all out of here alive and safe." Wow. I admit there are extremely difficult aspects of my job. I know all too well, and can relate, to a sense of urgency. What I don't know is what it feels like to have to perform a task with care and caution, because my life and the lives of my colleagues are depending on it. As my brother described his work environment, I pictured him walking a tight rope of being as efficient as possible while at the same time acutely aware of any and all possible risk or danger. No wonder why he worries about what his boys' lives would be like without him around. As our conversation evolved, the heaviness of our responsibility as parents shifted from how much they physically need us to care for them, to the responsibility of raising our children to be young people of good character. We mused about how our parents instilled in us the values of kindness, compassion, patience, and fun and how we would like to do our kids the same favor.
The conversation I had with my brother that Saturday afternoon stuck with me for several weeks before I came across a New York Times article called Raising a Moral Child by Adam Grant, a psychologist and researcher whom I admire. If you have time to read the article, I would highly recommend it. There are several points Adam makes in this article that shifted my perspective a bit. He brings up a common debate related to how we should acknowledge our children when they do something that is of high moral character; like being kind or helpful or generous. The research he cites in his article suggests that it really matters how we respond to pleasant behavior from our kids. Great. Something else to keep us up at night, right? I have to admit, ever since reading this article, it's been fun observing how what I say impacts my children; especially my 8-year-old son, Nolan. Rather than praising the behavior that I like, I began to attribute what my son has done to his character. For example, it is not difficult to catch Nolan doing things that are kind and helpful to his siblings all day long. Before reading this article I would respond by saying something like, "Wow Nolan, that was really nice of you to help Ryann get dressed this morning" or "Nolan, thank you for taking your brother on his scavenger hunt so I could work, that was really helpful." Now, I say something like this, "Wow Nolan, that was really nice of you to help Ryann get dressed this morning. You are a really good big brother." and "Nolan, thank you for taking your brother on his scavenger hunt so I could work. You are such a helper." The difference is subtle, but it matters. A few weeks ago we did a family movie night and watched Onward. It just so happened to be a few weeks after I started using this new way of praising him. I won't spoil the movie if you haven't seen it, but I have to say the last 20 minutes are powerful. The morning after we watched the movie, Nolan and I went for a bike ride and as we were finishing up he brought up the ending of the movie and said to me, "Mom, Barley is a really good big brother." Just thinking of that interaction with Nolan makes my heart want to jump out of my chest. I looked at him and said, "You are right Nolan, Barley is a really good big brother. Just like you." For those of you who have children around Nolan's age or older, this next part is worth noting (if your kids are younger you've got some time). It turns out around the age of 8 is when children really start crystallizing notions of identity. So tying our kids actions to their character matters. A lot. Grant says in his article, "When our actions become a reflection of our character, we lean more heavily toward the moral and generous choices. Over time it can become part of us." The good news is, by subtly changing how we praise our children, we can really influence aspects of their character that will eventually become a part of who they are. The bad news is, how we respond to unwanted behavior has consequences, too. The part about the unwanted behavior that really gets me is, when my kids are behaving well, I am in my wise mind and can easily adjust how I respond. When my kids are acting out, well, sometimes how I respond is less poetic and more of a knee-jerk reaction. When kids engage in unwanted behavior, and we respond, they typically feel one of two moral emotions: shame or guilt. This is how Grant describes the difference between guilt and shame in his article: "Shame is the feeling that I am a bad person, whereas guilt is the feeling that I have done a bad thing. Shame is a negative judgment about the core self, which is devastating: Shame makes children feel small and worthless, and they respond either by lashing out at the target or escaping the situation altogether. In contrast, guilt is a negative judgment about an action, which can be repaired by good behavior. When children feel guilt, they tend to experience remorse and regret, empathize with the person they have harmed, and aim to make it right." It turns out, when we respond to unwanted behavior from our children with anger, or when we withdraw love and affection at those times, or when we try to exert our power by threatening our kids with punishment, the research tells us kids don't feel bad about what they did, they feel bad about who they are. Shame. If that isn't bad enough, rather than learning from their mistakes and problem solving to make things right, the only thing they learn is they "are bad" and "their parents are jerks." Can you think of someone you sense just plain old doesn't like you? Or someone you know is judgmental of your character? What kind of feelings do you have toward that person? When I do this mental exercise I'll tell you this much, those aren't feelings I want my kids to have towards me. A more effective way to respond to unwanted behavior is by responding with disappointment rather than anger. The most dreaded phrase my mom used when I was growing up was, "I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed." Talk about guilt! Another way I respond to unwanted or self-destructive behavior (ahem...sound familiar parents of teenagers?), is by responding empathetically and then allowing consequences to do the teaching. Both parts, the empathy and the consequences, are equally important. Yesterday morning my 3-year-old daughter was sitting on my lap and started playing with my phone. Before I realized what she was doing, she had the Disney+ app pulled up on my phone and was about to start a movie. It was early in the day so I was fresh and feeling sharp. The first thing I said was, "You really love Disney+, don't you?" to which she nodded eagerly. "I bet you would love to watch a show on my phone right now." More nodding.... "I'll be happy to turn a show on for you after your screen-time checklist is done." The nodding stopped, she let out a scream so loud my eardrums started to vibrate (if any of you know my kids, one common characteristic they share is they all cry really loud. No seriously. REALLY LOUD), and she even got some water works going. I immediately gave my autopilot empathetic response, "Uh, oh..." and asked her if she would like to walk to her room or would she like momma to carry her to her room (the kids are issued bedroom time when they hassle people around them and are free to leave on their own once they are sweet). She was too busy exercising her lungs to respond so I scooped her up, carried her to her bedroom, and held her until she was able to calm down. On any given day I could've ripped the phone out of her hands, angrily told her she was a naughty little girl, and dragged her to her room. At first glance, the consequences of both responses may not have looked very different. Unless of course you could see inside her little brain where the neurons are always working overtime, spiderwebbing all over the place and forging new pathways. My hope is she felt bad she didn't get to watch a show before she finished her checklist, and next time she might not bother trying to get away with using my phone without permission, but if she does (which she probably will) she understands that my love and positive regard for her character is constant and there is nothing she can do or say or scream that will change that. The other day, I escaped outside for a bit and did some raking/podcasting. I listened to Brene' Brown's Unlocking Us. In her episode on Anxiety, Calm, + Over/Under Functioning she talked about how we all have patterned ways in which we respond to people, events, and even our own private feelings and emotions. These patterned responses are learned at an early age by observing how others around us act. We also have these things in our brains called mirror neurons that predispose us to mimic the emotions of those we interact with. We tend to naturally match the intensity, tone, and cadence of other's speech. The good news is, if for instance we bring an awareness to how we tend to respond to our kids misbehavior, we create space between the situation and our actions. I am a work in progress and am by no means perfect, but I try, especially when responding to my kids unwanted behavior, to be slow to respond and quick to think, "Do I have the information I need to make a decision or form a response?" I feel like I have the most success with this when I choose to start an interaction by first asking a question, and second, listening with the intent to understand. This seems logical, but not only do I ask questions and then forget to listen, but I often catch myself bounding into a room to "handle" a situation and immediately laying on consequences and issuing blame without even bothering to get a sense for what went down. Honestly, sometimes, like when I am trying to throw together dinner, or tidy up, or finish a conversation with my husband, quickly "handling" things seems like a faster solution. Walking into the room with a genuine curiosity sounds exhausting, especially when I can just use my past experiences with my children's conflicts and the snippets of noise or conflict or conversation I heard from the next room and take a "guess" at how things when down. After spending some time developing new habits, I've learned that if I can inhibit my "knee-jerk" reaction, and pause to reconsider how I want to respond to my kids, it can actually be a more efficient way to de-escalate the situation. Although sometimes storming in and shutting things down is faster. Especially if kids are conditioned to shut up and hide when the screaming mamma bear enters the room. I've decided that if the extra work on the front end ups the chances that my kids will turn out to be kinder, more compassionate, more patient, and more fun to be around, well, then, it's worth it to me. Thanks for sticking with me! Please if you have thoughts, questions, or ideas for future blog posts, please feel free to leave them in the comments below. Don't forget to subscribe so you can be notified when I post something new! |
AuthorMy name is Alissa Anderson. I am the School Psychologist for the Esko Public School District in Esko, MN. I am also a mother of three and was certified as a Love and Logic Parent Educator in 2009. Archives
January 2023
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