Reciprocal.
There is give and take in the relationship. The parent respects the child’s emotions and teaches him to consider thoughtfully the emotions of others.
Supportive and encouraging.
They understand that learning to manage one’s emotions takes time and effort. They support and encourage their child as he practices.
These actions enhance their children’s development, foster a positive sense of self-esteem, and, most important, build healthy relationships.
The least effective parents, those I call the intimidators, are:
Insensitive.
They miss the cues of their children or misinterpret them.
Unresponsive.
They do not respond to their children’s cues. Either they choose to ignore them or respond in ways that don’t fit. What the child feels or needs doesn’t matter. This parent might say something like, “I don’t care if you’re hot. I’m not, so leave your sweater on!”
Intrusive.
Their actions are invasive. They talk too much, demand performances, invade the child’s space, move too quickly, or hover over the child in a smothering way.
Dominating.
They tend to overpower rather than support their children.
Dr. Thomas and Dr. Cooke found that as a result of being raised by the least effective parents, the intimidators, the children suffer. Their development is slowed, their self-esteem is damaged, and they often become angry and hostile, refusing to cooperate with adults.
Getting Kids to Stop and Start
No one sets out as a parent to be bullish, cocky, or shaming, but unwittingly our techniques can take us there, especially on the tough days. Let’s take a look at the emotion coaches and intimidators in action, so it’s clear what I mean. Once again we’ll go back to the group for their help.
“I need an example,” I said. “Who’s willing to describe a situation where you had to stop your child?”
Abby volunteered. “Yesterday afternoon,” she said, “I was putting the baby down for his nap upstairs. I’d given my three-year-old a choice to come with me or stay downstairs. He’d chosen to stay down, but suddenly I heard a racket. Thud, thud, thud—books were being pulled off the shelves. I could only imagine what the room looked liked. Suddenly the thuds turned to crashes, when he started hurling books across the room. Odds were the knickknacks were next.”
“Think about your emotion coach,” I said. “The person you’d still love to work with and be around. How would she stop this child?”
“She’d stop you,” Margie said. “She might even yell stop, especially if it was unsafe, but she wouldn’t bellow or shriek and when she moved in to stop him, her touch would be firm, but not hurtful.”
“Yeah, she wouldn’t overreact,” Bob agreed. “She might even help him pick everything up, all the time talking to him about feeling angry and frustrated, but that it wasn’t all right to throw books.”
“She might ask what he was doing or why,” Kate offered.
I listed each of their answers, then asked, “How would the intimidator stop this child?” Tom’s chuckle was deep in his throat. “I can tell you, there wouldn’t be any discussion. The guy would just grab and jerk,” he said. “Maybe even pinch him.”
“If it was my mother, she would scream and then smack him,” Cindy offered.
“The person I’m thinking of would call him names, like stupid little jerk,” Betsy replied.
Peter hooted, “He’d be in his room for the next half hour, without any questions asked.”
Here’s a chart showing the different responses. Feel free to add your own.
* * *
Emotion Coach
Intimidator
touched gently
jerked
was firm but didn’t overreact
screamed
gave the look
pinched
helped him pick up
hit
redirected him
criticized him
took a break with him
called him names
showed him how to stop
wouldn’t talk to him
used a firm but gentle voice
threatened
asked questions
punished
* * *
Kate reviewed the list carefully. “What’s the difference between a firm touch and a grab?” she asked. “I mean, really, when the kid’s pulling books off the shelf, you’re not going to gently pat him on the head.”
I picked up the chair sitting next to me and pretended it was about to fall over on Abby. Placing one hand on each side of it, I grabbed it firmly as I righted it. My motion was swift and confident, not angry. I was relieved when I caught it. “That’s an emotion coach,” I replied. “Here’s the intimidator.” Once more I tipped the chair, but this time I lunged for it, grabbed it with one hand, jerked it upright, and angrily pushed it aside. My face twisted to a snarl as I set it back. “That’s the intimidator,” I replied. The force of the movements, the tone of the voice, the body language were subtly different, but the impact was stark.
“I think I get it,” Kate said, “Move instead of pounce; take ahold of instead of jerk; be gentle rather than rough.”
I nodded. “Many of the differences are about voice tone and force of the motion. But those subtle differences can make the difference between connecting and disconnecting.”
“Hmmm,” Kate responded and then turned to Abby. “So what did you do?”
“I was afraid he’d pull something down on himself,” Abby responded. “So I went downstairs. I stopped him by taking hold of his hand and then I told him, ‘I think you’re frustrated, but you can’t throw books.’ He started to cry. I just held him until he stopped, and then I had him help me pick up the books. I realize now he’s too little to be given the choice of staying downstairs. Instead I’ve created a ‘baby-care basket’ for him. When I’m taking care of the baby, he can play with the things in the basket. When I’m done, he’s done, so he doesn’t get bored with the toys. So far it’s working.”
Listening to Abby, I couldn’t help pointing out all the emotion coaching she’d done. “An emotion coach is sensitive to cues,” I said. “Abby realized the situation wasn’t safe for her son, so she stepped in, set a limit, calmed him down, helped him pick up the books so he learned about being responsible, and planned for success next time. Wow!” I exclaimed. Abby grinned.
“Who has an example of trying to get their child to start something?” I continued. It was Peggy who raised her hand this time. “Last night we had guests for dinner,” she explained. “I asked my eight-year-old son Aubry to set the table. He refused, declaring it wasn’t fair. His sister had set a table for four people the night before and now he was supposed to do it for eight.”
“How would the emotion coach get Aubry started?” I asked.
“She’d work with him,” Tom replied.
Tonya agreed. “Yes, and she’d probably offer sympathy, setting a table for eight rather than four is harder work.”
“She might make it special, pulling out pretty napkins, or candles, or even letting him make name cards so that he could choose where he wanted to sit.”
And then I asked them, “How would the intimidator get him started?
Again, the voices were tight. “Do it now!” Peter bellowed.
“Threats,” Debbie added. “Either do it or you won’t watch TV for a month!”
Bob agreed, “And lots of yelling. She’d be on his case to hurry up, too.”
Once again I made a chart of their responses.
* * *
The emotion coach
The intimidator
works with
Do it now!
sympathizes
threatens
makes it special or a game
screams
talks with and explains
rushes
* * *
Peggy listened attentivel
y and then sighed. “I tried those things,” she said, “but he was so upset he couldn’t even hear me. I finally just had to send him out to take a break, and set the table myself because the guests were arriving in five minutes. After dinner he was fine and helped with dishes without complaining, but I’m not sure I did the right thing.”
Peggy was an emotion coach. She recognized the intensity was too high and the time too short to bring it down before the guests arrived. She did what she needed to do. But she won’t want to stop there. As an emotion coach, she’ll go back and talk with her son, thanking him for helping with the dishes, but also letting him know that when he’s frustrated or tired, “fits” are not acceptable. Next time she expects that he will say something like, “This doesn’t seem fair,” or “I’m very tired, may I please have a different job?” Then together they will figure out a solution that will feel right for both of them.
The Choice Is Yours
As you review the lists, I suspect you’ll realize that the methods employed by the emotion coach and those used by the intimidator can stop or start a child, but the question is, At what cost? Which strategies foster that emotional bond and keep your child working with you? Which strategies help the child learn to understand his feelings and develop coping skills?
No one is a perfect emotion coach. Building healthy, strong relationships with your children is a process. You have to give yourself permission to be a learner, to practice and try again. All of us have a bit more or less of the intimidator in us. But we can choose to be more of an emotion coach for our children. As you respond to your child you can choose to be firm without being intimidating. You can be a teacher without being an interrogator. You can be assertive without being aggressive. When you decide to respond respectfully and gently, you can stop your child and still keep him working with you—even when he’s fourteen.
Think about the last twenty-four hours. How did you stop your child? Did you wash his mouth out with soap when he spit or called you names, or did you clearly let him know that this behavior was unacceptable and at the same time teach him what he was feeling and what he could say or do instead? How did you get your child to start something? Are you happy with the words and actions you used? Are they helping you to build the kind of relationship you want with your child in the long run?
Making the Decision
Kate groaned, “How am I supposed to think about all this stuff in the middle of the night, when my daughter’s screaming and I’m exhausted?”
“Let me tell you about a phone call I received last fall,” I said.
It was late, and I was sitting quietly reading when my telephone rang. I chose to let the machine answer it. The voice was familiar and frantic. A child’s screams echoed in the background. “We have an issue,” the voice said. “We’re kind of fried. We don’t know where to turn and how to deal with—well, a sleeping problem or lack-of-sleep problem. If you get this message, would you call us…” I snatched up the receiver.
It seems two-year-old Annie was adamantly refusing to go to bed. When her parents tried to leave her, she screamed in terror, “Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me.” If they walked out the bedroom door, she followed them, heartbroken sobs choking her.
“What should we do?” the dad asked. “We don’t want to start a bad habit, but we also hate to hear her scream. She seems terrified.”
It’s true that late at night it seems impossible to think about what your child might be feeling or needing. How can this possibly be an opportunity to connect with and teach your child? She won’t listen. You want to scream!
But you always have the choice to choose strategies that connect you with your child or disconnect you.
“Grab a piece of paper,” I directed the group. “Write down on the left side of your paper all of the strategies that you’ve heard people describe or recommend for dealing with late-night meltdowns. Include them all, the ones you like and the ones you hate. Snatch at those deep memories of the worst nights—the times when you haven’t slept for days, are scared stiff, and the baby has just vomited on your sweatshirt and the only way to take it off is over your head. Stick them all down right here. And then on the right side of your paper, ask yourself: Does this strategy connect me with my child, empathize with his feelings, and build a relationship with him? Or does it disconnect us, negating or even punishing him for his emotions?
Your list may look like this:
* * *
Potential Strategies
Result
lock the door and walk out
disconnect
stay with him and pat his back
connect
put a gate on the door
disconnect
spank him
disconnect
take him for a ride in the car
connect
put him in bed with you
connect
ignore him
disconnect
rock him
connect
* * *
The fact is that all of these responses may stop the behavior at least temporarily, but the question is, How? Do they do it in a way that builds connections with your child, or disconnects you?
The Decision to Connect
“So what did the parents do?” Peter wanted to know.
Fortunately for Annie, her parents didn’t just react. They thought through their response, and as we talked, they realized that usually Annie went to bed easily. Screaming was not typical behavior for her. Indeed something was wrong. And so we talked about what had been happening in their lives. It was then I learned that Annie’s mom was pregnant and was just two weeks from her due date. It had been a very difficult pregnancy, and Mom had been put on complete bed rest for the entire summer. She could get up, go to the bathroom, shower, and lie on the couch. That was it. Annie was scared. An active kid, suddenly she was pretty grounded. She’d spent most of her summer sitting in the rocker next to the couch or with friends and neighbors. Now the baby was due, and in order to prepare her, they’d let her know that soon Mommy and Daddy would be leaving in the middle of the night to get the baby out of Mommy’s tummy. Their friend Janet would be coming to stay with her.
As soon as they heard themselves tell me this, they realized Annie really was scared. They gave Annie the support she needed by sitting with her and patting her until she went to sleep. This ritual lasted for the next two months, until after the baby was born. When things calmed down again, Annie’s parents gradually shortened the patting time and returned to the old bedtime routine of a simple story, prayer, and kiss. Annie accepted it. And six months later when I ran into them at the grocery store, Annie proudly announced to me, “I go to bed all by myself!”
These parents were emotion coaches. They identified what Annie was feeling and needing, and they selected strategies that validated those feelings. They weren’t pushovers. When they knew that Annie’s stress levels had returned to a more comfortable level, and were confident that she no longer was feeling fearful, they “held the line” and returned to the old routine. It’s true it took time and patience on their part, but their daughter learned a very important lesson. Now she knows that she can trust Mom and Dad to help her when she is frightened. It’s a lesson she will remember even when she’s sixteen and needs to talk to an adult about the things her peers are doing that make her uncomfortable.
Remember Your Own Emotion Coach
You can teach yourself to be a more effective emotion coach by building off of your own memories. Think about your favorite adult, your emotion coach. What’s one step you can take to be more like him or her?
If you’re like Kate and never had an emotion coach in your life, you may not even be sure where to start. If that’s true, listen to the parents around you, and look for individuals who are sensitive and supportive of their children. Take classes to educate yourself. If that seems daunting, there’s a Chinese proverb that may be helpful to you. It says, “The journey of a thousand miles be
gins with a single step.” You can start with just one step today.
Start with the Little Steps
In class the parents shared their goals. Peg decided she’d take the time to rub her daughter’s back in the morning before she got up. Peter vowed to try to listen more. Debbie decided to try to plan ahead more. Jim was going to stop rushing his son. Lisa wanted to remember that her kids had reasons for their behavior and weren’t just out to get her.
Each individual set up little steps, actions they could take to help them build that positive relationship with their child. Their progress reports a week later were exciting. Peg’s morning hassles with her daughter had almost disappeared. Bedtime had gone better for Jim, who, instead of scooping his son off the floor and immediately trying to put him to bed, started fifteen minutes earlier than usual and carried his son around the house saying good night to the dog, the plants, and the teddy bears. When it was actually time to put him in bed, he didn’t fight it so much. Debbie had eased into the change to daylight savings time by predicting that the night they moved their clocks ahead the kids would need more help getting settled. They did. But she’d planned to spend time with each one, and, as a result, the evening had gone smoothly and she’d never lost her cool.
Whether it was listening more, thinking ahead, informing the children, or spending more time with them, all of the little actions paid off. Kids felt important and heard; cooperation became a reality.
Kids, Parents, and Power Struggles Page 4
