Encore

Jerry and I enjoyed a half-day refresher course with Vicki yesterday. I found it just as inspiring the second time around.

People like to ask, “But how do I get my kid to _____?”

“I don’t know,” says Vicki, “Hit him!”

Blank stare from the parent.

“I don’t know how to get your kids to do anything,” she continues, “The question is, what will it take for them to choose to do it themselves?”

Another parent chimes in, “Yeah, but when my son’s being lazy, I make him. I make him get up.”

“Ok. … Then what? He hates you, you hate him and he’s not doing it on his own. Is that what you want? Because those moments create little cracks in the relationship until it becomes a big divide and pretty soon they have no interest in a relationship with you … no interest!”

So what do we want for us and our kids? And what are we willing to do to get there? Do we want kindness, independence, and resilience? And do we really think we’ll get there on a road paved with scolding, rescuing, and interference? Are we willing to look in the mirror and do the work to change old habits based on our own dysfunctional baggage?

This program faces facts: There are no quick fixes, no silver bullets. If you want extraordinary results, you have to do the work, put in the time, make the changes in yourself.

We are not responsible for our children. We are responsible to them, to be the best we can be. It’s not easy and I don’t believe it can be done on your own without help. This program lays out the steps to get you there. Vicki has done the research and worked out the basic plan. All you have to do is pick up the ball and run with it and then make it your own — dribble it, bounce it, roll it. Just don’t drop it.

Room for more

We got dogs. Yes, that’s dogs with an “s.” If you had asked me a year ago if that was an option for our family I would have said absolutely no … freakin’ … way. A year ago I was drowning in tasks, all of them crucial to each day. My plate overfloweth. And on top of that, I was crabby about it on a regular basis. “Do I have to do everything around here?” I would gripe in my head until the same sentiment would eventually come out of my mouth in one form or another.

But that was then and this is now.

Telling my friends and family about the dogs elicited a variety of responses, but the ones I noticed the most were along the lines of, “Oh, because you weren’t busy enough already,” or “Wow, I would never do that,” or simply “Two? Two puppies?” followed by a quizzical stare.

“Yeah. They’re great!” was my answer each time. How could I quickly explain this journey that has lead us to a place where we are ready and able to expand our family? It reminds me of that show, Clean Sweep, where the experts come into a cluttered house and coach people through getting rid of all the stuff that’s not useful and getting in their way. It’s always a struggle to convince them to let go but then they’re ecstatic to have all this space to use in new and better ways.

Our clutter took the form of damaging behaviors based on old habits, patterns, and beliefs. And just like on the TV show, some are easy to let go of and others had to be gently pried from our hands (and, yes, a few remain in the closet that we’re still trying to part with). But the result is the same: space to grow and room for new experiences.

So I no longer gripe in my head about having to do everything, and the whole reason I could welcome two puppies into our family is because I no longer interfere with all the things my girls can do for themselves. We work together to take care of the puppies and they give us joy and create new memories every day. For us, I can’t think of a better way to use our new-found functional family space.

ps Although we are at a place now where two puppies don’t upset the apple cart, a couple of apples did roll off during the first week. One of them was Charlotte’s homework — not only doing it but also remembering to bring it back to school. Resisting distraction is a big challenge for Charlotte and the puppies are that with a capital D. After several days with the dogs I asked her, “So how are things going with your reading homework?” “Not good,” she said flatly. “I had to stay in from recess because I didn’t have my reading contract.” “Oh. Bummer.” After a long pause she said, “Mom? Can I go get my books and read to you now?” “Yes!” I said, and that night she did her whole reading list.

I am then supposed to write down what she reads and sign it and put the paper into her book bag. In the morning I did that and I thought, ok now I’ll put the whole thing into her hands so then she’ll take it right to her backpack. I found her in the mudroom playing with the dogs. “Here you go,” I said, “I signed it.” She took it out of my hands, did a quarter turn, and placed it on top of the newspaper pile. Then she looked at me. She knew exactly what I was thinking! I pursed my lips together to keep quiet, smiled and … walked away while Charlotte happily went back to playing with the dogs. I stood in the kitchen chanting to myself, “I will not interfere with the growth of my child, I will not interfere with the growth of my child…”

Ten minutes later the neighbor arrived to take them to school. “Bye mom!” “Bye!” They left and I peeked into the mudroom to see her reading folder still sitting neatly on top of the newspaper pile. My new mantra kicked in right away: It’s ok. She did her homework and that’s progress. She’ll get through the day and get another shot at it tomorrow. Meanwhile, I will be grateful to the puppies for providing a whole new way for her to practice resisting distraction. Now repeat all that three times, breathe, and move on …

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.