Reshaping Negativity: Teaching Kids to Think Positive

"Today was awful."  "I got teased on the bus."  "That teacher hates me." "Those girls are mean."

Every mom hears this litany from time to time.  For me, it happens when the kids walk in the door from school or during my first few minutes in the door.  I have three of them (amazing, hilarious, talented... and talkative!), and my husband and I work hard to make our home a place where they can feel safe and listened to -- especially when the world outside feels unfriendly. 

 

But hearing everything bad that happened in a day, from a broken shoelace to a broken friendship, all at once, right as you walk in the door can feel overwhelming... leading AnyMom or AnyDad to ask themselves silently, "They were so cute as babies... So quiet.  Why, exactly, did we teach them to speak?"  (Oh, stop your judging... you don't say it out loud, but you know it's true.)

Seriously, though, the question then becomes: how to turn the barrage of negative talk in a positive direction? Do I have to be the kung fu master of child development?  Do I arm myself with a teflon super shield that sheds negative energy? Do I take it all in?  Do I ignore?  (Do I lock myself in the bathroom for ten minutes of peace?)

The answer -- for me, at least -- is... a little bit of each.  Yes.  Including the bathroom.  (I call it my 'home office', as in "I have an important meeting.  If you need me, I'll be at my home office.") 

Here are a few strategies that may work: (Throw them at the wall and see what sticks.)

Divide and Conquer: Learn a lesson from the old West: one animal is easier to handle than an entire herd.  Give each child a little one-on-one time that they can count on, maybe associated with a ritual activity like doing homework, driving to an activity, setting the table or getting ready for bed.  Use that as the time to share the day's stresses.  Instead of feeling overwhelmed, each parent can really listen.  Reliable alone time can help your child feel valued and give you both the space you need to talk about issues that matter.

Start Happy: Set a family goal to start with something new or amazing or cool when we talk about what our day was like.  I redirect the wave of troubled talk often with these phrases, "Tell me something happy from your day." and "What did you learn today?"  Do it often enough, and the kids know that they'll get as much (or more) attention by sharing something positive.  (The habit of thinking positive first is a great one for moms and dads, too.)

Step Back, Be Brave: Sometimes, the result of having an open, listening household is that there can be challenges to our own way of doing things. (The complaint isn't always about the kids on the bus.)  Being open enough to hear without dismissing, deflecting or defending takes parental bravery.  (I'll admit, this is something I have to work on.  It's tough, especially now that my oldest is a 'tween'.)  And one way to handle difficult conversations or feedback constructively can be to reframe a contentious issue in general enough terms to make it less personal.  Asking open ended questions is a great means to do that. A useful book that teaches this skill (the hubs and I read it often) is Raising an Emotionally Intelligent Child: The Heart of Parenting by John Gottman.  I'd highly recommend it to any mom or dad.

Be Thankful: Every so often, we take time at a shared meal or in the car or at prayer time to say something we're thankful for.  Often, it can be an affirming time in our family. I hear my kids say how thankful they are for a small kindness one did for another, and we can openly express how glad we are for our time together.  Every time we talk about being grateful, we are focusing on a small happiness in our life.  And that focus helps us weather the not-so-good moments a little more resiliently.

 

In the end, a little positivity helps our whole family -- especially when life happens, unexpectedly. 

What works for yours?

- Midwest Mom

Life and Death: The New Pet Saga

It has been a month of high drama in our corner of the prairie this past month. We've gone from the highest highs to the lowest lows... sometimes in a span of only 10 hours.

I'll begin at the beginning. With me. As the new year began, I had some sort of mental break wherein I convinced myself that this was the year to voluntarily bring another living being into our household. Not a baby. A part of the animal kingdom.

For the first month of the year the thought of a pet hovered there in the cloudy regions of my grey matter. Then it happened. The News-Gazette ran a picture of puppies needing adoption at the local humane society.

That's all it took.

I visited. And although all the puppies had been adopted, I found a beautiful little Corgi-Jack Russell mix at the Vermilion County Animal Shelter. She was mild and quiet. I talked to my husband, and we decided to bring her home. I went to the pet store to get a carrier and leash. And when I returned to pick up my little bundle, I was told she had been adopted only 10 minutes before.

I was crushed.

Tears falling (it was so embarrassing), I returned to the pet store to give back the items I'd bought. In the meantime, my husband got us dinner reservations and movie tickets for a surprise evening out as a family. It was a good distraction; I hadn't counted on feeling so sad at not bringing home our dog.

After a few days, I felt myself again. But the pet-talk continued with my husband, and we decided to discuss it with the kids. When we asked them whether they would like a puppy or a kitten, their answer shocked us.

Neither. They wanted fish.

So, for the past two weeks, we've been setting up our tank. We let the kids make the choices on gravel and plants and a tank background. They did the setup. We waited a few days and bought fish -- 2 glowfish and 4 guppies.

We carefully brought them home and transferred them to the tank. There were smiles aplenty. It was high times in the Kelly home.

Until morning, that is, when we found all 6 fish belly-up.

Then, there was wailing and gnashing of teeth. My first-grader, especially, was hard-hit by the loss of the fish. (In fact, he tearfully explained to his teachers that it was my husband's fault for not turning on the airstone.)

So, we started from scratch, washing everything carefully and re-conditioning our tank with the help of a book rather than the thin pamphlet that had arrived with our tank. And, we learned a few things. We allowed more time for the water to be ready. We chose hardier fish. We made sure not to let the kids bond with the fish at the store, making the first purchases ourselves. We talked to the kids about cycling the tank, being clear with them that the fish may not survive the chemical changes a new tank goes through.

Still, this morning, at the end of our first night with 3 Longfin Zebra Danios in the tank, the kids were up before their alarm clock. The first question out of their mouths? "Are they still alive?" Thankfully, we could answer, "Yes." And the stairwell rang with the thunder of children's feet as they ran downstairs to look.

We turned on the light and let the children watch the first feeding. It was a thrill to see the kids so fascinated. By the end of the morning, they had found a name for our smallest Danio -- Sam.

And so begins our journey into pet-ownership... Wish us luck.

(I think we'll need it.)

- Midwest Mom

Silence and Cucumbers

We had a crazy weekend. It was fun, but it was crazy.

So, this morning when the alarm clock went off, it was difficult to get us all moving again.

I did it nonetheless.

It was the morning routine of the American mother.

The urging, the cheerleading, the steering, the feeding, the combing, the peace keeping, the shoe-tying, the lunch-packing, the driving, the kiss-goodbye-ing. The return home to dish-washing, laundry, toddler games, and bed-making. Thinking about supper when it's only 10:00 in the morning.

It wears on a person sometimes.

There are times when I feel the heavy weight of responsibility bearing down on me, when the knowledge that my husband and children's health, cleanliness, and emotional well-being are in my hands seems like a burden. There are times when keeping family peace and making sure every other human being within our personal radius is appropriately cared-for feels like work.

These are the times when my energy-gauge reads "Empty".

These are the times when I know it's time to do something different with my day. To change up the routine and let the saddle sores of personal servitude have some time to heal.

It's when I take time for silence.

So, if you happen to come by the house today, you should know that I won't be answering the door. I've turned off the radio. I've turned off the phone.

There are cucumbers on my eyes.

And I'm enjoying a little silence for a change.

It's the one way I know to help let the gratitude back in and feel the joy of mothering again.

Who knew silence and cucumbers were such a wonderful combination?

For me, they're like magic.

- Midwest Mom

Raise the Curtain on Drama

They say as a toddler I was fairly dramatic.

They say their nickname for me was Sarah Bernhardt.

They say they used that nickname often.

I should feel complimented, really. She's quite beautiful.

"They" are my parents.

I wonder what they would say about my daughter and her recent discovery of the gamut and depth of human emotion.

My daughter, as you may know, is three. Much of the time, she is a dear, delightful child. But during the past month, a new part of her brain seems to have awoken. It is the part that helps her to feel all emotions -- from joy to the deepest sorrow -- with frightening strength.

I'm afraid she doesn't know what to do with those feelings yet. To be honest, neither do I.

I have been amazed to see the transformation of my mild little girl into a wailing banshee of fury in a matter of seconds. Her godfather, upon witnessing one of her rare outbursts (I think sparked by the denial of candy before supper) looked bemused as she arched her back and opened her mouth to eight times its usual size for an ear-splitting NOOOOOooooo! "Well, I'm happy to know that nobody can push my god-daughter around! That girl's got some power!" he accurately observed.

Because her transformation happened so publicly (at our family Christmas celebration), I had to remove her from the watchful eyes of the relatives and give her a time-out in a separate room. I let her spend time alone until she was calm enough to rejoin the group. What worked? Whispering in her ear that every person in the house could hear her yelling, and that they all knew the noise was coming from her. She looked at me with surprise. "They do?" Fairly soon afterward, we rejoined the family.

Looking back, I'd say I was lucky.

To be honest, seeing her careen out of control frightens me a little bit. I have always known that parenting girls would be somehow different. It made me nervous (still does) because I want to do it well. I want to help her control her reaction to the strength of her feelings without teaching her that feelings themselves are bad. When I look back at my own upbringing and the way I was taught to hold feelings inside and when I think about how much I kept hidden from my parents, especially as a young woman, I am hopeful that I can find another way. Maybe there is a way to parent my children through emotional times and lead them to understanding. Maybe not. Maybe that's just supposed to come later. At this point, I'm not sure.

This morning, on the way home from dropping her brothers off at school, my daughter had another angry outburst. She wanted to go into the building to visit with "her friends" (the teachers and secretaries and her brothers' classmates). But we had other errands to run, so I kept her in the car and said goodbye to the boys and drove away. I was treated to about 8 minutes of abuse that seemed more like 40.

At first, my reaction was strong, telling her that children who behave that way have no business going into a school and that yelling at me was not appropriate. But the more she flew off the handle, the more detached I became. I realized she wasn't yelling at me. She was trying to remake reality and was frustrated that things weren't turning out as she had expected. I turned on the radio and let her process that we were driving home instead of back to the school.

"We ARE going in to school! I AM NOT GOING HOME!" she stated loudly and with power.

I let her wind down as we drove. I could tell she was starting to accept that I was not giving in. Early in the drive (when I was still in 'reactive mode') I told her that she was going to have to accept that there were some things she couldn't control. No one enjoys hearing that, no matter how true it is. I know I sure don't.

About three-fourths of the way home, she started saying, "Mommy?" But she was still so wound up, I didn't respond. I needed to feel like I was cool enough to not react harshly. I waited until we were all the way home, until she was played out completely, to respond. And even then, I waited until I had turned off the car, had a moment of quiet, and got out to unbuckle her. When we were face-to-face, she asked, "Mommy? Is today my playgroup day?" I was able to speak to her and calmly say yes.

Then came her request for a hug. It is something she does at the end of almost every outburst and sometimes right in the middle of one.

When she is still angry or crying, though, I don't hug her. I wait until she has regained control. Sometimes I feel conflicted about that, especially if she is both crying and begging for a hug. But I don't want her to start relying on me to get her emotions under control -- I want her to learn to do it herself. Then we can re-establish our bond. It may be over-analyzing, but I think sometimes she is starting to realize that she is having far different feelings than I am, that we won't agree all the time, and that we are, in fact, different people. Maybe that's scary, especially since she has been my little princess and constant companion since she was tiny.

Oh, through all of this, I worry. It is a tough time for me as a Mom because I want to help her, but I understand that she has to discover the answers for herself, even though she is only three. Maybe the best I can do is keep her safe and talk about things once the crying is done.

Wish me luck. I know this is only the beginning of her journey, and I want it to be a good one. At this point, parenting through this is tough.

Maybe now I'm the one who needs a hug.

- Midwest Mom