Kids, Parents, and Power Struggles

by Mary Sheedy Kurcinka

  “He’s happy, shouldn’t I just sneak out?” he asked. “No,” I explained. “Jason needs to know he can trust you. Don’t sneak out.” (You’ll be able to use this when he’s a teenager and you want to tell him, I never snuck out on you, you can’t sneak out on me.) “When you go, say good-bye and remind him that his teachers will be here for him, and that he’s got his teddy. Tell him you’ll come back when it’s time to leave.”

  He did just as he was instructed. Jason whimpered, but he didn’t cry. He rubbed the spot on his teddy, then came to me when I started blowing bubbles for him. After only a few minutes he went back to playing with the blocks and continued playing until his dad came back.

  All kids go through stages of separation anxiety. It’s normal, and it signifies that they’ve attached to you. They know they can count on you, and it’s a big world out there. When you allow your child time to become comfortable in a new situation and connect with the caregiver who will be with him in your absence, he can relax and do.

  Feeling safe isn’t important just for younger kids. Older kids need your support, too. Leah was thirteen when she flew from Minnesota to Washington, D.C. for a ten-day vacation with her aunt. The first day in Washington, her aunt took Leah and her eleven-year-old cousin, David, to the Holocaust Museum. In the middle of the museum David became ill and asked to be taken out. Leah wanted to finish going through the museum, so her aunt told her to meet them in the rotunda. When she finished, Leah couldn’t find the rotunda. She asked a guard for directions, but he sent her in the wrong direction. Frantic, she searched for her aunt, who was also looking for her. Finally, after fifteen long minutes, they connected. But suddenly Leah no longer felt safe.

  The next day Leah and her relatives left for the Maryland coast. The ocean waves were huge after a storm, and the thought of ten days away from home was more of an adventure than Leah could endure. Homesickness struck hard. She called her mother, crying, “Please, let me come home.” This wasn’t a simple matter. Leah had arrived on a charter. A plane ticket home would be very expensive, and returning to Washington would mean an eight-hour roundtrip for her aunt. Leah’s mother explained, “If you absolutely need to come home, we’ll bring you, but it will cost a lot and disrupt your aunt’s vacation. How else can we help you feel safe?” Leah said, “Can I call you whenever I want?” Remembering the typical camp policy her, mother said, “I think this will just make you miss us more.” But Leah said, “No, I need to talk with you.” So her mother relented. The first day Leah called every hour. The second day she called six times. But by the third day she checked in only twice. Each time her mother reassured her, “You can do it; stay busy. If you need to come home you can, but I think you can work this one through.” Leah did, and when she arrived home, she was actually beaming. “I did it!” she exclaimed to her mother. But to do it she had to reconnect with her mom and feel safe. (The phone bill was a tenth of what an airline ticket would have cost.)

  As you work with your child, know that she does want to venture out. But she has to feel safe first. You are not coddling her when you stay with her or allow her to check in with you. Be available, but don’t smother.

  Nudging Isn’t Pushing

  I always like to ask my audiences about how they learned to ride a bicycle. No matter what age they were—and the ages range from three to adult—there usually was someone who supported and helped them. But sometimes there’s someone who learned to ride because their brother dared them.

  When it comes to trying things, sometimes kids need a little nudge. A nudge is not a push; it’s an invitation. Take toilet training, for instance. There are some kids who are really smart. They don’t want to give up their diapers. Think about it. Why would any rational person want to give up the intimacy of diapering to sit alone in a little room over a pool of cold water that you could fall into at any moment. But, alas, even though the diaper companies are making bigger diapers, someday you still have to learn to use the toilet. For these kids a “nudge” may be in order. A nudge looks like this.

  In the morning when your child wakes and it’s time to change his diaper, you ask him, “Would you like to use the toilet today before I change your diaper?” The choice is his. If he says no, you just change his diaper. But as you do it say, “Someday you’ll choose to use the toilet because that’s what big people do.” The next day ask again, “Would you like to sit on the toilet or just change your diaper?” The choice is still his. If he says no, you change the diaper, but again you say, “Someday pretty soon you’ll choose the toilet, because that’s what big kids do.” Plant the seed, and one day when you ask, he’ll say yes. When he does, let him sit there. If he doesn’t do anything and wants to get off, let him, saying, “Someday you’ll be able to sit on the toilet and go.”

  How Can We Make It Better?

  Nudging may also include a little problem solving with your child. When Leah was desperately homesick, her mother asked, “What will make it better?” Stan used that same strategy with his five-year-old son, Paul.

  Paul was toilet trained, except he would have a bowel movement only in a diaper. When he felt the urge to defecate, he would ask for his diaper. His parents had tried telling him there were no more diapers. But Paul would become hysterical and hold his bowel movements. We didn’t want to get into issues of fecal retention. So instead we set up a plan. Stan explained to Paul, “I think there’s something about going in the toilet that frightens you, but big people do use the toilet. How can we make it better? How can we make it feel more comfortable and safe for you?” Together they decided that Paul would practice dropping tissue paper in the toilet and flushing it because the flushing scared him. His dad also agreed to stay in the bathroom with him while Paul just sat on the toilet. When Paul wanted to get off, he was allowed to do so. His father kept encouraging him, and they made it routine that even though Paul used a diaper, he went into the bathroom for his bowel movement. Finally they looked at a calendar and realized that in six weeks Paul would be five and a half. They chose that date as the day Paul wanted to poop in the toilet. In preparation for the big day, they kept talking and practicing; but when the date came, Paul couldn’t do it. His father said, “That’s okay, soon it will be better. You’re close, we’ll keep practicing.” It took another ten days, and then he did it. Sometimes it takes a little nudge and a lot of support to help your child feel comfortable doing.

  Recognize the Power of “No”

  It’s important to know that two-year-olds love the word no. You can offer a two-year-old candy or juice and he’ll say no. That’s because two-year-olds are elated to find out what happens when they say no. It’s such a powerful word. It can make adults go crazy. So when your two-year-old says no, don’t grab the bait; instead, use your sense of humor. If he’s really serious, you can acknowledge that he really didn’t want to do something, but if he’s playing with no, recognize it. Repeat “no, no, no” with him. Scoop him up and giggle with him as you both say, “no, no, no.” Sidestep it. Instead of asking a yes or no question such as, “Do you want to wash your hands?” say something that invites him to do something, like, “Do you want to turn on the water or get the soap?” Don’t let no catch you when it’s more about the joy of discovery than a meaningful, “I don’t really want to do that.”

  Adjust for Differences

  Sometimes when children aren’t doing, the real issue is that they’re not doing it the same way their parents would. Kids who prefer introversion and are temperamentally cautious in new situations need to observe and think before they’re ready to do. If you’re an extrovert who also happens to jump right into new situations, it may be difficult for you to understand your child is learning through observing before actively participating. He isn’t being obstinate. He’s just doing in a different way.

  Remember, by your child’s very nature, he is driven to do; if he’s not, there’s a reason. Look for it.

  Hold On to the Vision

  Teaching your child to stop and s
upporting him as he learns to do aren’t easy. But when you give your child that solid foundation and encourage him to fly, it’s a time when heart and mind meet. Dreams become realities, and memories for a lifetime are created, memories like those I hold about my grandmother.

  When I was a preschooler my grandmother kept a flock of chickens. Every afternoon she would mix a pail full of chicken mash, fill another metal pail with fresh water, and trudge the four hundred yards from the barn to the chicken coop. If you ask me today, I will swear to you that when I was four I fed the chickens. I’ll admit that Grandmother helped a little, but I will adamantly insist that I carried those buckets, and I dumped the feed and water in the troughs.

  Now you may realize that it is just about impossible for a thirty-five-pound four-year-old to carry two full, two-gallon pails that weighed over sixteen pounds each. But my grandmother didn’t scoff at me when I asked to help. Nor did she leave me struggling with full pails that I would have dumped before I got them a foot down the path. No, Grandmother stayed right there with me. She got me my own pail and after mixing her mash helped me mix mine. It didn’t matter to me that it was only about a quart’s worth of mash. It was my mash! Then she instructed me to grab my mash pail as she grabbed hers. We both took ahold of the water pail’s handle. It dangled between us as we crossed the farmyard together talking about what we’d do after feeding the chickens.

  My grandmother died in 1984. But whenever I hear children asking to do things that the adults in their lives aren’t sure they’re capable of, I am reminded of the gifts my grandmother gave me on the way to the chicken coop. Her gift to me had nothing to do with toy stores or athletic departments. It didn’t wear out. It has stayed with me, giving me the guts to take on the challenge of writing books, getting degrees, skiing mountains, and having kids. My grandmother was my emotion coach who taught me I could do.

  * * *

  Coaching Tips

  Learning to “do” is an essential life skill. You can choose to stop your child and teach him what he can do.

  Teach your child why you are stopping him so that he can learn to stop himself.

  Support your child as he learns to do.

  Acknowledge your child’s frustration when he has to stop.

  Understand that when your child is not doing, he isn’t being lazy—there’s a reason. Find it.

  FIFTEEN

  You’re Not My Boss!

  Learning to Be Assertive Rather Than Aggressive

  “I guess when she’s sixteen and starts dating the college freshemen, I’ll want her to be able to say no, but does she have to practice on me now?”

  —The father of a ten-year-old

  We were sitting at the table drinking an ice-cold glass of lemonade garnished with fresh-cut lemons. “Mom,” my daughter began, “is it true that squirting lemon juice in a kid’s mouth will stop him from saying bad things?” Before I could inquire where she’d heard this advice, my son plucked a lemon slice from his glass and quipped, “You mean like this,” as he stuffed it into his mouth. He grimaced when the lemon juice struck his tongue, then clamped the lemon firmly between his teeth and flashed us a big yellow smile. “Does that stop you from swearing?” I inquired casually. Popping it out of his mouth, he gleefully retorted, “Hell, no!”

  Learning how to get and use power is a critical stage of emotional development for all children. The window for this stage opens sometime around your child’s fourth birthday and continues for years. You’ll know your child has hit it when she turns to you and declares, “You’re not the boss of me!” Don’t ask me how she learned this sentence structure, I don’t know. But I do know that the statement is remarkably common. And once she’s sprung this announcement on you, it will probably be followed by the grand slam, “I hate you!” or “You’re the meanest parent in the world.” Your initial reaction may be one of stunned disbelief and then alarm. If this is how she’s talking at four, what will she be like at fourteen?

  When your child hits this stage of development, it doesn’t have to be a nightmare. Your little angel doesn’t have to turn into a bad-mouthed monster. What she’s trying to do is figure out how to get and use power. Your job is to teach her the difference between being assertive and being aggressive. The lessons, however, do not begin with lemon juice. They begin with these steps:

  Enforce clear standards: Teach your child to be respectful.

  Establish an understanding of the emotions that fuel the words and actions.

  Teach words that allow your child to get and use power respectfully.

  Step One: Enforcing Your Standards: Teaching Your Child to Be Respectful

  It was Friday, the end of the week, time to unwind. We were eating dinner around the antique oak harvester’s table. The conversation was easy and warm. My son had a basketball game later in the evening. Reveling in the mood of the moment, I suggested, “Why don’t we all go to the game and then we can stop for ice cream afterward.” The words had no more left my mouth when my daughter, then eleven, shoved her chair back from the table, threw her napkin onto her plate, and declared, “I’m not going to his stupid game. You can’t make me!”

  Blood rushed to my face. I could feel the heat of it and the pulse pounding in my throat. The vehemence of my daughter’s response shocked me. We’d just been joking and laughing. Where had this intensity come from? And I felt invaded. This wasn’t acceptable behavior to me. I’d made an innocent suggestion, that was all. I took a deep breath. “Try again,” I said. My eyes boring into hers, my voice firm.

  She shrank back in her chair, knowing she’d blown it. She, too, took a deep breath, sat up straight in her chair, and then calmly said, “Mother, it’s been a very stressful week. I haven’t had any time to myself. I’ve proven myself to be very responsible. The neighbors are home tonight. May I please stay home alone?”

  While I still may not have been able to consent to my daughter’s request, you can bet that I was much more open to listening to her. Most important, we were still talking and working together. We had started practicing the skill of being assertive rather than aggressive when she was four. Seven years later she was able to use it after a firm reminder. It took another two years before she was able consistently to assert herself without being aggressive first. And when she was fifteen and establishing her independence, I was ecstatic that she had this skill. The lessons begin with learning the limits.

  The Difference Between Bulldozing and Persuading

  When your child steps over the line by using words, phrases, or a tone that is offensive or invasive to you, call him on it. You can tell him, “Stop. That’s bulldozing.” Most kids know what a bulldozer looks like. It creates for them a mental image of a great beast of a machine pushing dirt and rocks in front of it. The term helps them recognize what they are doing to other people. And it doesn’t carry the emotional baggage of “Stop sassing,” “Stop being mouthy,” or “Stop talking back.”

  Your goal when you say “stop” is to clarify the limit and to allow you and your child to pause. Don’t get pulled into a power struggle trying to force him to stop. If you scream or threaten, “Don’t you talk to me like that,” or “Stop it, or I’ll wash your mouth out with soap,” not only will you disconnect, but he’ll retort back, “You can’t make me,” or “Just try it.” Remember, he’s trying to find out how to get and use power in your family. You want him to learn how to be assertive. It’s very important that when he’s sixteen he knows how to say no to his peers. So rather than directly taking the full force of his attack, redirect that energy. Set your limit and then immediately help him understand what he’s feeling and what he can say. The challenge, of course, is to keep your cool long enough to do it.

  Step Two: Identify the Emotions: Keeping Your Cool

  When kids are learning how to get and use power, they push and poke us with their words. Taking a look at those words and understanding the emotions they fuel is essential. I’ll let you peek into one of the power struggle classes
to hear a few of the emotions other parents experience to let you know you’re not alone when that rush of adrenaline hits you.

  As the class filed in, I wrote on the board “The things kids say that push your buttons.”

  “That’ll be no problem,” Bill quips before he sits down.

  Each parent is given a card and asked to write down all the things their kids say that drive them wild. As we go around the table to read the cards, Debbie volunteers to start. “I’ve got three examples just from this morning when I asked my seven-year-old son to clean his room. His first response to my request was, ‘Make me!’ But I didn’t blow. Instead, I reminded him that everyone in our family has responsibilities. His response to that was ‘You’re unfair.’ When I insisted that he do it, he said, ‘I want a new mom.’”

  Stephanie hooted as Debbie spoke. “I heard all three of those this morning, too, but my ten-year-old daughter doesn’t stop there. When she gets angry, she starts yelling, “‘You’re stupid!’”

  Liz listened attentively. “Maybe mine’s not quite so bad,” she remarked. She held up her card and read, “You’re not my friend.” She explained, “Whenever we go to my sister’s house, Danielle, my four-year-old, starts fighting with her cousins. It’s really embarrassing. They’ll be playing fine, but all of a sudden I’ll hear her threatening them. ‘If you don’t do this, I won’t be your friend.’”