Over a month ago (because it's been that long since I last sat down to chart the waters I've been navigating) it was a Saturday morning, and I'd been up for a few hours when I thought I heard my daughter whimpering from her bedroom down the hall. It was odd, considering she has been getting out of bed on her own for months now, and if anything she would cry out in the evening at bedtime rather than in the morning. My eldest son, Nolan, and I exchanged a glance and ventured down the hall to investigate. When we got to her bedroom, my three-year-old daughter, Ryann, was curled up into a ball under her covers. Like fully under her covers. I approached her bed and pulled back the covers to find her drenched with sweat. Her hair was wet, like wet after a bath kinda wet, and let me tell ya this girl has a TON of hair. Nolan and I coaxed her out of bed and brought her into the living room for some snuggles, and an explanation for what the heck happened in there. In true three-year-old form, Ryann proceeded to tell Nolan and I that she had been hiding under her covers for who knows how long because there was a man in her bedroom who had been trying to get her. She gave us details about how he stood at the end of the bed, how he was a big man with small hands (I had a hard time not picturing Kristen Wiig's baby hands on SNL's Lawrence Welk Show when she told me this), and how she could feel him pushing on her when she was hiding under the covers. For real. Super creepy, huh? I felt so bad for her. I always struggle in situations like this: What kind of reassurance do I provide for my daughter? AND How much attention do I give it? Later that day, I got an SOS text from one of my college friends asking about how to deal with her 5-year-old son and his fear of the dark. The double whammy reminded me that, last summer, Nicki Peterson, the high school guidance counselor here at Esko (and my soul sister btw) shared an article she found helpful when dealing with her son's fear of sleeping alone. It was called Help Your Child Sleep Alone by Dr. David D. O’Grady. He's a clinical neuropsychologist practicing in Walnut Creek, CA. When she told me about the article, Nicki more accurately described it has bedtime boot camp. Anyway, the article is really good and worth the read, especially for folks who feel like their kids sleeping problems are disrupting family life in a big way. This was the paragraph that sucked me in... We want our children to feel confident and secure, able to relax knowing they are safe, able to seek help when they feel bad, yet able to comfort themselves when bothered by minor worries. We want our children to know their own feelings, identify anything wrong, and talk about problems. We want a balance of independence and closeness. When it comes to sleep, we want them to feel okay about coming to parents occasionally (on an anxious night), yet comfortable sleeping alone on a regular basis. Yes, please. Sign me up. For all of that! I could dissect the heck out of this paragraph and find ways that it applies to what I want for my children not just now, not just as it relates to sleep, but as it applies to what I want for my children in every way, throughout their lifetime. Fast forward a few weeks and I found myself in the doctors office with my two boys. I'd actually brought my daughter in earlier that day since we've had three CoVid birthdays and no well-child visits. Now that it was flu shot season, it was time. I have to confess, for several years now, I've had a lot of anxiety leading up to my eldest son's well-child visit. I'll never forget when we went in for his 6-year-old check up and what I heard (not necessarily what was said to me). The doctor told me the average child gains 5-6 lbs per year and my son had gained 15 lbs; which was concerning. Concerning enough for her to want to see us back in 6 months. I felt terrible. What kind of negligent mother allows her child to gain triple the amount of weight than other kids his age? How had my negligence hurt him? I had noticed he wasn't able to keep up with his buddies as well as he used to. Had I made his favorite thing in the world, playing sports, more difficult for him? Don't worry, when I screw up, I'm not one to sit around and feel sorry for myself. As soon as we walked out of the doctor's office, and up until a few weeks ago, I became my son's personal food and physical activity micro-manager. You can imagine what a pile I felt like, after all of that effort, when we sat in the same doctor's office three years later only to hear what I already knew: the plan had totally backfired when it came to my son's weight gain. The doctor and I had a heart to heart earlier that day when I had my daughter in, and we both knew what my son really needed to hear. My heart sank when I watched as the doctor leaned in toward my son to reassure him that he was growing just the way he was supposed to be, and his body was perfect just the way it was. It wasn't what she said. What she said was perfect. My heart sank because my beautiful boy's shoulders rolled forward and his eyes remained glued to the floor below him. When she was finished talking to him, he excused himself to the bathroom for a few minutes so he wouldn't cry in front of her. All that effort. All that emotional distress over my sons growth. Worrying about what he looks like compared to the other 9-year-old boys. All those times when, as he reached out for a second piece of cake, I kindly asked him, "Are you sure you want another piece?" That was love. Love in the form of shaming him. I don't care who you are, if you are reaching for a second piece of cake, and I ask you if you're "sure" you want it, it's gonna make you feel like dirt. Even if I say it politely. I was reminded what Marc Brackett, Ph.D. shared in his book Permission to Feel, when describing signs of emotional distress his parents missed when he was a child... "...loving me was not synonymous with seeing me." I'd seen the signs of my own son's emotional distress, and I didn't change course. I never let up. If anything I pressed on harder. Fortunately, a new friend in my life just happens to be a dietician, and while I was fretting one day over the upcoming well-child visits, she recommended I check out the book Your Child's Weight: Helping Without Harming by Ellyn Satter. Ellyn taught me that by depriving my child of getting to decide for himself how much he ate, I'd created an environment of scarcity. When one of our basic needs as humans is available at times and not available at other times we instinctually become preoccupied by accumulating whatever we can, whenever we can, as quickly as we can. Even if there are signs that we might be overdoing it, we ignore them, because we aren't sure when the next opportunity will come along. Anyone remember the toilet paper rush back in March? Yeah. Many of us ignored the pantry full of TP because we didn't want to be the idiot who didn't stock up when they had the chance. The more we saw other people running toward the TP, the more we felt the need to stock up ourselves. You get the point. Clearly I didn't when it came to how I managed feeding my family. So, I'm a good mom who needed to make a correction. I thought I was helping my son, but I was hurting him. I clung tight to that book for several days and then sat my son down one evening. I told him that I discovered it is my job as a parent to provide nutritious and enjoyable meals and snacks for him, but it wasn't my job to decide what or how much of anything he ate. I apologized for taking over his job of deciding what and how much to eat of those meals I provided. I apologized for not trusting him. Since then there have been some hard moments. My son still eats quickly and eats more than what his body needs at times, but he's learning to trust himself again. He's learning to trust me again. Mostly though, I've felt a weight lifted off my shoulders. Being a good mom no longer means I need to be constantly hovering over my son or watching him eat out of the corner of my eye. I think we both feel relieved. Through this process I've discovered one more thing. In order to give my son the best chance at being a confident and secure person, I needed to reckon with how I regard my son and his size through what I say and do, and just as importantly, I needed to reckon with how I regard my son and his size through what I think and feel. When I was Nolan's age I was chubby. I grappled with body image issues all the way into my 20's. At some point I gained a sense of security with who I was, and I learned to love my body. The problem is I love my body because it looks a certain way. When my mind's eye visits my 9-year-old self, I look at her with pity. I feel sorry for her and want to whisper to her that it will get better because she will grow into her body. She will find ways to shape it into something beautiful; something worth loving. Letting go of micromanaging my son's eating has been the easy part. This other piece, well, its a work in progress. That chubby little 9 year old was timid and insecure AND she was smart and sensitive and beautiful. Her body was growing in the way nature intended to grow. I'm going to continue to visit her in my mind's eye until she believes those things to be true. It's gonna take some time, but I feel confident I'll get there. If not for myself, for my son. The division of responsibility in feeding is what I needed in order to help my son and I find a balance between independence and support. The same goes for sleeping. We have jobs as parents to set the stage for our children. We say what time they go to bed, we establish what that routine looks like, they get to decide when they close their eyes. The same goes for reassuring our children when they are upset. We let them know we are here to support them, and help them find ways to comfort themselves. We give them permission to express how they feel and ask the right questions so they learn to understand themselves and have the confidence to ask for what they need....or don't need.
A balance of independence and closeness. When Ryann was upset from her bad dream, it hurt to see her that way. I wanted to take that pain away. But her brain is growing in the way that it is supposed to. She is figuring out how to decipher real threat from perceived threat, she is learning when she needs someone to make sure she is safe, and when she can ensure her own safety. She is learning how to comfort herself when she feels uneasy. It's all part of growing. If I take that pain away, I take the opportunity away. So instead I squeezed her hard, assured her she was safe, and gave her time and space to figure out for herself and then tell me what it was that she needed in order to feel better. I loved her AND I saw her. In her book, Ellyn Satter says, "Accepting a weight agenda- or any agenda- for your child will make you parent in hurtful ways." She goes on to say, "If you worry about your child's weight, it's tempting to do something about it, if only to relieve your own anxiety. In doing something about it, you are more likely to bring about the very thing you want to avoid." This statement was difficult for me to digest. I realized that if I don't check myself on my "agendas," I'm not allowing my kids to grow into the people God or nature intended them to be. I've been looking at how I parent through this lens for several weeks now, and I have to admit, it's not easy. The agendas I have for my kids usually exist either because of the pain I experienced as a child that I want to spare them, or the opportunities I had that I want to pass on. What agendas do you have for your kids because of your experiences? Good or bad. Do you want them to be super athletes? Or maybe the top student in their class? Or maybe anything but a "struggling reader". Do you want them to be seen as the leader of the pack? Do you want them to go to a 4 year college or own their own house? Do you want them to have loads of friends? Do you want them to be able to study abroad because you never had the chance? Do you want to spare them unpleasant feelings like sadness, loneliness, defeat, humiliation? Next time you find yourself "doing something" to relieve your own anxiety about your child, I would urge you to check your agenda. I can speak from experience. It is a humbling exercise. Thank you so much to Alex, Nichole, Nicki, and Dr. Erin Louks-Smith for being gentle guides through these waters.
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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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