Abracadabra

“So last week we addressed bossing and getting ready in time for school,” I said at family meeting today. “I’ve been ringing the bell at 7:00 and 7:30. So how’s it going?”

“Good,” said Fenner, “Except when someone forgets to set her alarm.” And she shot a look at Charlotte.

“Well that was just on Monday, right? So what about the rest of the week?” I asked everyone.

“No, mom, mom!” said Ellen excitedly, “Charlotte and I made this really great system where if she’s up first she comes and wakes me up, and if I’m up first I wake her up and then we both come down and get ready together!”

“Hey, teamwork!” said Jerry.

Ellen continued, “And then Fenner comes down really late, like right before it’s time to go.” She glared at Fenner.

“Well that’s because I don’t have to make a lunch anymore so I can come down later!” Fenner shot back.

“The question is, do we need to make any changes to the solution you came up with?” I asked.

“Nooo,” they all said.

“Ok, so we’ll stick with it for now?”

A chorus of, “Yeaahh.”

“Ok, so let’s see what else we have here…” I proceeded to go down what was left on the list of problems, “Is this still a problem?” “Noooo.” “How about this one?” “Well, sort of, but not really.” “This one?” “Um…noooo.” And on it went until we had no problems left on the board. Abracadabra–gone! “Wow, you guys have become real problem solvers. Look at all these problems you solved!”

“Let’s celebrate!” said Jerry.

“Let’s make a cake!” someone else said.

So today, instead of voting on a solution, we voted on what kind of cake to bake. It was unanimous: double vanilla … with rainbow sprinkles.

Problem children

Ok, I’ve been sitting on this post for a long time. We introduced problem solving into our family meeting several weeks ago. I was apprehensive. More? We’re doing more? More to think about, more to remember, more to figure out. Yes. More.

I remember Vicki describing how her own kids would run to her saying, “Mom! She did this and he did that!” and Vicki would look calmly at them and say, “Well, that sounds like a problem for you!” and cheerfully point in the direction of the problem board. Her kids would then roll their eyes and say to each other, “Come on! We gotta go figure this out so we won’t have to put it on the problem board!” And they’d run away all charged up to solve their own problems.

Sounds like la-la land, right? But I’ve had so many other pleasant surprises with this program, so why not this too?

So I got a big sheet of paper and stuck it to the wall and wrote at the top, “I have a problem when someone …” And then I waited for the next problem report so I could point to the board and watch them roll their eyes and run away to solve it all themselves. (We carefully went over the whole concept at the last family meeting, including the no name, no blame policy, etc.)

Well, turns out they didn’t come to me at all, they just grabbed a pen and started writing!

I know that’s hard to read, so here’s a transcript:

• Threatens to go into my room and mess things up
• Gets too close to me so I have to push her away (this was written twice)
• When someone hides my stuff
• Shoves a cricket in my face
• Bosses me to get up and get ready for school
• Says I’m dumb or stupid
• Accuses me of something I didn’t do
• Annoys me whenever I’m doing something important
• Steals the tennis balls when we’re trying to play
• I have a problem when somebody yells
• Doesn’t give me what I need right away
• Comes in my room, gets on my bed, climbs on me, turns my alarm off, says she didn’t see me, and runs away
• When someone makes someone else’s area a mess
• Doesn’t get ready fast enough so we’re all late for school

So the board filled up right away and I felt a little overwhelmed, but then three things happened:

1. our first problem-solving session revealed several, “Ohhhh, yeah, that’s not really a problem anymore…” a couple of, “Well, that only happened once, so … let’s skip that one…” and many, “Nah, let’s not do that one now.” And the list quickly became much more manageable;
2. after the initial flood of problems, we’ve now gone almost two weeks with nothing new added to the board; and
3. they figured out very quickly that bringing new problems to family meeting put their allowance at risk if they took too long coming up with an agreeable solution to try.

After three sessions, we’re already getting much better at it, and it feels more doable. I proudly managed to either keep my mouth shut, or come up with the most lame solutions:

• “How about we nail boards across your bedroom door so your sisters can’t get in?”
• “Fenner, you could sleep in a tent at school and then you’d be right there and never be late!”
• “I know, lets keep Charlotte awake all night so she doesn’t have to wake up in the morning.”

To my delight, at our last meeting Ellen moaned, “Moooooom, you always come up with terrible ones!”

Our most challenging problem yet was two sides of the same getting-ready-for-school-in-the-morning coin. Fenner has a problem when someone “doesn’t get ready fast enough so we’re all late for school” and Charlotte has a problem when someone “bosses me to get up and get ready for school.” Fenner had actually taken over the job of bossing Charlotte around quite often since I had decided to quit that  job months ago. And it was weighing heavily on both of them. I found this note that Fenner had written to Charlotte, and where Charlotte had shown what she thought of Fenner’s note and then added her response underneath:

You get the idea. So family meeting went something like this:

Fenner: “You won’t get ready unless I boss you!”

Charlotte: “If you boss me I won’t get ready!”

This went back and forth for a few minutes. Then we talked about what it feels like to be bossed around and how it happened that Fenner took on the job of trying to “make sure” about Charlotte. We figured out that Charlotte was still getting used to her alarm clock, and that Fenner lived in fear of Charlotte getting distracted and not getting ready in time. Then they brainstormed and voted on their solution: Charlotte would have another week of practice remembering to set her alarm clock, and I would ring a small bell twice each morning: once 40 minutes before it’s time to go, and a second time 10 minutes before it’s time to go. And they agreed the bossing each other around would stop. We clarified that offering help and encouragement was still ok, but no more bossing. (Fenner even said she might put tape over her mouth!)

After that meeting, Fenner seemed happier and lighter, like a weight was gone. And Charlotte was immediately more cooperative. I’ve been ringing the bell each morning, and Fenner’s bossing has decreased significantly.

Can’t wait to find out at our next meeting if they think it’s working …

Pressure’s on

The pressure to help, that is. To revert to my old ways of interfering with growth and learning. It’s everywhere. Last week it was an email from school saying that Fenner didn’t turn in her homework on time. Then a form stating when Ellen’s book report is due with my signature required at the bottom (there have been quite a few of these forms and sometimes I’m told that anyone without a signature has to stay in from recess). And then a phone call with Charlotte’s reading teacher who informed me that, “It’s ok to help her remember to bring the book back to school.”

Most teachers, I think, want to foster independence as much as I do. But fostering true long-term independence, and allowing for natural consequences, can be messy and inconvenient and can feel like an impediment to short-term progress. Some teachers are most likely responding to the increase in micro-managing parents. They assume that parents want to know, to be in the loop, to be involved at every step — because many of them do. But not me. Not anymore. So I’ll gently let them know: No thank you. Keep me out of it, please. I only need to know if it gets serious. Otherwise, you can let her handle it. Yes, she can handle it.

What do teachers think when I say this? Are they happy? Relieved? Puzzled? Annoyed? A lot of times it’s hard to tell, especially in this age of email. For example, I sent a note to Fenner’s teacher saying thank you, but please don’t feel obligated to tell me every time Fenner forgets her homework. I got no response. So I’ll assume that no news is good news and keep on keepin’ on.

The pressure comes from within as well. Ellen was just in tears over trying to get a frozen bagel apart without breaking it. I asked her some questions about what might work and stated that I was sure she could figure it out, but I refrained from doing it for her. Finally she blurted, “Mom, you’re never any help!!!” and stomped away.

I could hear the voice of society whispering in my ear, “How could you?! A good mother helps her child. Especially when a sharp knife is involved!” I ignored the voice and instead listened to the slamming of cupboards and drawers in the kitchen. I noticed how the slamming gradually subsided and was replaced by sounds of happy eating.

Yes, they can.

Attention to detail

I am greeted (rewarded?) with evidence of growth and progress every day — as long as I pay attention. Like listening in the car this morning when Fenner said out of the blue, “I hope I get to do my presentation today. I practiced again last night and it was really good!” (What?! Could this be the same girl I remember as a 3rd-grader, all sweaty and shaky and barely able to whisper as she read her story in front of the class?)

And then stopping long enough to notice — as I plowed through the pile of papers on the kitchen counter — something that Ellen wrote at school:

You mean she’s actually proud of her new-found rat-feeding and cat-box-cleaning skills? I never would have guessed. But yes, proud — of what I assumed to be mundane. What was that quote I just read in Vicki’s blog? Oh, right:

“See with their eyes, hear with their ears, feel with their heart.”  Adler

ps And on top of that, going into Jerry’s office to use the fax machine and finding this:

I had to stop and take a few deep breaths to keep from bursting into tears. Yowza.

Stop, look, and listen. It’s so amazing what you’ll find.

Sole witness

“Lisa has the ability to absorb the pain, the grief, the agony or the fear from the person she is ‘listening’ to and hold it. She doesn’t do anything with it. Her intention is never to change it, to make it better, to ease the suffering. Her primary goal is to be a witness to the other persons experience.”

I felt inspired when I read this in Vicki’s new blog. Probably most of us have experienced the frustration of telling a friend or loved one about a struggle, only to have them respond with a list of possible solutions. Even the arm around the shoulder paired with, “Don’t worry, it’ll be ok,” can feel annoying and intrusive.

Our kids are no different. But in that role of parent it is so hard not to offer advice or try to ease the pain. We’re older and wiser, right? They need to learn from us! Or at the very least it’s our job to comfort, console, and make-feel-better, yes? Sometimes, yes. Many times, no. Many times we just want to be heard and understood and that’s all.

Be a witness to the other person’s experience. That’s it. So simple.

Yesterday I tried it out with Charlotte:

“Mom, he won’t fly. I keep trying to help him, but he won’t go.” She was gently nudging a large dragonfly perched on the fence outside our house. “Oh, dear … I think I know what’s wrong,” I said, “Remember when you had big noisy cluster flies in your room at bedtime last year? And we had to keep coming in to help you swat them?” “Yes.” “Well today the man came and sprayed fly poison on our house to keep the flies out.” “So he’s a fly, not a dragonfly?” “No. The problem is, the fly poison doesn’t only kill flies. It kills other things too. He must have landed on our house and gotten some poison on him, and now he’s dying.” Charlotte paused and then looked at me with tears in her eyes, “But mom! You mean I’ve been trying and trying to help him for no reason?! And now he’s just going to die?!” Her tears were contagious and I felt myself welling up too. “I know…it’s terrible…I’m so sorry…I just don’t know what else to do about those flies. We’ve tried lots of other things…Do you think we should just live with the flies in our house?” “No,” she said quietly.

We sat together in silence for a long time while she cradled the dragonfly in her hand. There were lots of things I could have said to try and make her feel better or convince her that the loss of one dragonfly wasn’t a big deal.

Instead I just quietly stayed by her side and watched with her.

“Mom?” she said after a while, her voice calm. “Can you please go get the camera?”

In memoriam …

Bumpity bump

Ok, I know we’re dong well overall, but today is just one of those days when it feels really hard. Maybe it’s because I’m sleep deprived (staying up too late for various reasons).

Contributions have not been happening this week. Vicki is so right — if you don’t reinforce it everyday, it quickly loses steam. So this afternoon I said, “Yes, you may play horses as soon as contributions are done.” “You’re mean!” said Fenner, and stomped around the kitchen in a big huff. She had to go back four times before she and I could agree that her contribution was done, and one of those times on her way by she popped me in the stomach. I stood there silent for a few minutes not wanting to succumb to my first reaction. Then in a low voice I said, “Fenner, hitting me is on the list of being disrespectful. If it happens again, you’ll be going back to zero.” It felt and sounded like scolding, but my tired brain didn’t know what else to say.

Fenner finally finished and then Charlotte started to walk out to join the game. I said, “Charlotte you may go as soon as your contribution is done.” Without missing a beat she said, “You can’t stooop me!” in a sickeningly sing-songy voice. I called after her, “Well then you’ll have a lot to do in the morning!” She didn’t even slow down. Sigh. Charlotte knows exactly what is truly in my control and what is not. I discovered very quickly that, with her, “Yes, as soon as…” only works if I have complete leverage, such as: “Yes, I’ll play that game as soon as…” or “Yes, I’ll drive you to school as soon as …” That one is powerful… unless, of course, she decides to take the bus. Baby steps…tiny, itty bitty baby steps …

Exasperated, I flopped down in a chair and closed my eyes. A few minutes later I heard Charlotte come back in singing to herself, “I’m good at being annoooooyying! So good at being annooooooyying! …”

Perfect.

Deeeeeeeeep breath. And begin again …

Husbands are people too

In a nutshell: progress with the girls has been pretty steady. Progress with my husband? Not so much. He was willing to take the course with me (yay!) and he nodded his head as much as I did while Vicki spoke. But his memory of that day is fading, and what is there to take its place? His old ways of course. They are much easier to remember. Ten years of practice can’t compete with a 1-day workshop.

The only way I’ve been able to change any of my old habits is to consciously study and practice everyday, everyday, everyday. Hard work! But it’s getting easier now, and I see the results and I know where they’re coming from, and that keeps me going. Jerry doesn’t make those connections as much because his memory of the logic and rationale for these new strategies is fuzzy at best. The other day he said, “Charlotte has really come a long way. Maybe it’s because of the work you’re doing …” Maybe?!!!!!!! I wanted to yell. The work I’M doing?!!!!!!! What happened to WE?! Have you completely given up on yourself???

Sigh. Actually, I have a hunch what happened to the “we.” While I was retraining myself to stop micromanaging the girls, I started micromanaging Jerry instead. To be fair, he did say he needed my help, that he wanted my coaching and my reminders to help him change his ways. But after months of my stop-and-think-about-it stares, and my can-I-talk-to-you-for-a-minute lectures, he has had enough. His openness to my coaching is now clogged with a big glob of I-can’t-do-anything-right frustration.

So what to do? Two words: back off. Just like I’ve done with the girls. No more stares and glares, no more intervening. He took the course, he read the booklet, he sees what I’m doing, it’s up to him now. I really, really wanted / expected / was excited for us to be on the same page with all of this. But that may not be possible. It’s time to let go. After all, he’s really no different than the girls. I can take what I’ve learned with them and apply it to Jerry:

• Focus on the positive
• Notice effort and improvement
• Cut out reminding, nagging, scolding, lecturing, fixing …

…and remember that those Crucial C’s work with grown-ups too.

This is not easy. Without my running interference, he’s already regressed, especially with Charlotte. Last night at dinner she had her volume turned up. As I went into ignore mode he said, “Charlotte?! We’re trying to talk and have a nice quiet dinner and you are yelling and talking too loud and it’s hurting my ears …” etc. etc. And to that she looked right at him and replied, “You are being a bad dad!” Then later as I was folding laundry, I heard him talking again to Charlotte who was supposed to be upstairs getting ready for bed: “Why are you in here? … This is unacceptable … Out! Get out, now!” I cringed and took a deep breath, but did nothing. Just let myself feel sad, and then moved on.

This felt like a big change and I needed to be honest with the girls about it. So I explained to each one of them what was going on: “Yes, daddy took the class with me, and he liked it too, but he’s tired of all my reminders so I’m going to stop. And so he might start saying and doing things he hasn’t done in a while. The most important thing to remember if dad gets angry is that it’s not your fault, and it’s not about you. His anger is his problem, not yours.” Charlotte just quietly hugged me. Ellen asked, “Can I remind him?” I said yes. And Fenner’s comment was, “Ok, if he yells I’ll just do like I do with Charlotte and walk away.” You go girl.

Meanwhile, this shift motivated me to do what I’ve been wanting to do for a long time: Make a poster for our bedroom that I see every day with all the ideas and principles I want to remember — that help me stay on track. And if Jerry looks at it too, so much the better. And the best part was I invited the girls to help me. (“Invite” is one of the words on the poster…actually we needed 2 posters to fit it all!)

So I’m hopeful that letting go will be better for everyone. Yes, I want my girls to have the best possible relationship with their dad. And I’ll help in any way I can. But I’m not in charge of that, and I’m certainly not in control of it. And if Jerry and I can’t always be on the same page, then I’ll foster as much honesty and communication about it as possible.

I can’t keep it perfect, but I can work to keep it real.

Day two

When I got out of the shower at 7:15 this morning, the house was still quiet. Uh-oh, I thought. Is the honeymoon period over already? Should I do something? No, no. Trust that they can handle it. Imagine the tape’s still on my mouth …

Five minutes later I heard some sounds and poked my head out of the bathroom. There was Charlotte, lying on the floor, dressed but looking very sleepy. “Good morning Charlotte!” I said. “The bus has gone but you can still catch a ride with me.” “I could’ve caught the bus!” she moaned. “Oh? What happened?” “It was all because of you!” Of course, I thought. “After my alarm I went back to sleep and then I woke up after it already alarmed and I saw my shorts but I thought they were long pants because you put them with my capris and that’s why I didn’t come down!” “Oh … I put them both there because I didn’t know which ones you wanted.” “I told you I just wanted the shorts!”  Ok, need to change course here. In the most cheerful voice I could muster, I said, “I’m going downstairs, and I’ll be leaving at 7:40!” “So you’re leaving now?” said Charlotte, “But I haven’t made my lunch!” “Well, I’ve seen you be fast, and you still have about ten minutes.” “That’s plenty of time!” Fenner chimed in from the hallway. “No it’s nooot!” wailed Charlotte. Fenner pulled me close and whispered urgently in my ear, “Mom, if she’s not ready will you just take us to school?” I shook my head. “When everyone’s ready I’ll drive to school. I can’t leave her behind.”

Then, as I was walking down the stairs, the most amazing thing happened.  I heard Fenner say in a friendly voice, “I’ll help you, Charlotte! Since I don’t have to make my lunch … come on!”

For the next ten minutes, the two of them worked together on getting ready. And what I thought might be disastrous-day-two turned out to be only-five-minutes-late-day-two. What a relief.

We did it!

Wow, my plan worked! Last night I told all the girls, “Remember how I needed to learn to stop bossing you around before school?” They all nodded. “Well, to make sure I don’t go back to doing that, I’m going to wear tape over my mouth tomorrow morning. So if you want to ask me anything, ask me now.” I was relieved to see their reaction: amused and calm. That was a good sign.

This morning, Charlotte’s voice woke me up at 6:10: “I think you’ll have to drive me to the bus because it’s cloudy and cold and it might rain.” I opened my eyes and heard myself say, “Well, a jacket and an umbrella can help with that.” And then I remembered and shut my mouth and reached for the tape I had placed on my bedside table. “Mom, I’m going to take the bus so I don’t think you’ll boss me,” she said and went downstairs.

I followed her down to check the weather forecast. She was standing in the pantry. “Moooooom, I can’t pack my lunch! It’s too hard!” I looked at her and nodded and gave her a thumbs up. “Mom, it’s the first day of school! Can’t you help me a little bit? Can’t you just fill my water bottle?” I pointed to her and gave another thumbs up and went upstairs. (I was most grateful for the tape at that moment. Not sure I would have stayed quiet otherwise.)

I took the tape off to brush my teeth and Charlotte appeared in the mirror behind me with a sour look on her face. “Where’s Dad?!” Jerry called out to her from our bed and she went over to him. I kept brushing and my electric toothbrush drowned out most of their conversation, but I did hear, “Mom has tape on her mouth, I don’t like the tape! …”

She went downstairs again and I stayed to get dressed. Meanwhile, just as I began to wonder if Fenner and Ellen were going to get up in time, I heard the upstairs shower running. Yes. So far so good.

As I finished getting dressed Charlotte pranced down the hall toward me, her attitude transformed. “Mom! Has it been one hour yet since I got up?” (She knew she had one hour before she had to leave for the bus.) I shook my head. “Ok, good,” and she pranced away.

I glanced down the stairs and saw her backpack on the table with her lunchbox tucked inside along with the empty tissue box she was supposed to bring on the first day of school. I took a deep breath. It was going to be ok.

When we were downstairs together I made one more gesture, pointing to my watch and making a steering wheel motion with my hands. “What? You mean the bus is on its way?” I nodded. “Ok!” She zipped her backpack, put on her shoes, gave me a hug and walked out the door.

Twenty minutes later, Fenner and Ellen were downstairs, dressed, and happily making their lunches:

(Last year I remember getting up at 6am to make lunches and thinking, “Ugh, I’ve been making lunches for so many years and I have so many more years to go!” At that time I couldn’t see any other option. How wrong I was.)

“Where’s Charlotte?” asked Fenner. “She’d better get up if she wants to catch that bus!” said Ellen. I caught Ellen’s eye and pointed my thumb over my shoulder toward the door. “What? She already went?!” I nodded. “Fenner! Charlotte already left!” I could tell they were both impressed. She’s reinventing herself in their eyes too.

“Mom, what time are we leaving?” asked Ellen. I shrugged at her. “Fenner! What time are we leaving? You have to be there earlier so you have to decide!” A few minutes later I pointed at myself and pointed toward the door. “What, Mom? You’re going to be in the car?” “Mmm-hmm!” I said.

A few minutes later they both came out and we headed off to school. We backtracked down the driveway for one thing that Fenner remembered she needed, but otherwise our first school morning went off without a hitch. And I proudly watched Fenner hop out of the car with no hesitation and cross the street to start her first day of middle school … right on time.

I’m a bit stunned by how easy it was. I was really nervous thinking about how stressful school mornings used to be, can be, could be again. Would we be able to pick up where we left off?

Turns out, once again, I had nothing to worry about.

School tomorrow

School tomorrow. Must keep mouth shut. They are capable. They can get up, get their stuff, and make their lunch, etc. I know this because I’ve witnessed it. Yes, we’re all out of practice, but it wasn’t that long ago.

But what’s my plan if the very first morning goes awry? Give myself permission to lapse into dictator mode because I can’t bear to let them be late on the first day? That’s understandable, and I would forgive myself for doing it, but it’s not what I want, and it’s not the best thing for the girls.

Tomorrow morning is the perfect time to focus on that big picture: TRUST in them. Focus on the POSITIVE. Foster INDEPENDENCE.

And trust in myself too. I can do this. But maybe I’ll have a roll of duct tape handy just in case. In fact … hmm, I’m just coming up with this idea right now… what a great visual for the girls! What a vote of confidence in THEM it would be to tape my mouth shut! I could say something like, “Girls, to remind myself how much you don’t need me to tell you what to do anymore, I’m going to tape my mouth shut for the first day of school.”

How exciting and scary. I can’t wait to see what happens…