Our family’s ban on being busy and in a hurry

When is the last time you talked to someone and they didn’t say they WEREN’T busy?!
A conversation usually goes like this:

“How are you guys?”
“Oh you know, we’ve got such n such going on and then there’s such n such coming up. We’re runnin’ from one thing to the next.”
“Oh I know. We are so busy too.”

It’s so common place that we come to expect people to say they are busy. And we think nothing of it when we say how busy we are.

But we should.

When’s the last time you WEREN’T hurrying to get somewhere?  Didn’t have adrenaline rushing through your veins on the way to work or to drop off your kiddos?

All this being busy and hurrying everywhere reeks havoc on our nervous system. It keeps us in stress mode. And that effects EVERY system in us – immune system, digestive…you name it.

And our children???

Our children’s generation is the first to be so darn rushed all the time from a young age on. What do we think is going to be the impact on our children’s developing brains, hearts, bodies, and relationships to be so hurried all the time, to be so in stress mode all the time???

Well the other night, I had enough. I had enough of treating the clock as a god. I had enough of hurrying my kiddos to eat breakfast and get out the door and into the car to go to school.  I was appalled at how the doctor and nurse (though knowledgable and kind) hurried our daughter through her three-year old check up with rushed hands — and how they probably did this with every other child that day and no other parent thought ANYTHING of it.  Why? Because we are used to it!  We are used to our bodies and presence not being regarded as sacred.

Well, enough, I said.

Sitting at the breakfast table…late…I looked around and I thought, “this is crazy. Our culture has lost all regard for honoring the sacredness of the body, for reverencing and honoring its flow. I refuse to teach my children to not honor their bodies. Let them sleep. Let them eat. Peacefully. And Brian and I are doing nothing for our relationship with our kiddos to be on them and hurrying them. Enough. I call for a family ban on being busy and in a hurry.”

Maybe it’s this mid-life shift thing I’m going through (it’s not a crisis and it’s not an awakening. I’m awake. Now I’m just takin’ action n shiftin’ stuff. Big time.).  I’m taking more responsibility for MY life and how I want to live it. No one else is going to be at my deathbed with me and the divine.

It’s going to be me and the Big G reflecting back on my life and asking, “Did I love fully?  Did I live fully?”

It won’t be: “Did I get the kiddos to soccer practice on time?”

Instead I’ll recall images of me and Brian being present with our children.  I’ll recall regarding them and seeing, really SEEING, their needs…and responding to them.  I’ll recall holding Little C. for awhile longer even though we are late for a playdate.  I’ll recall letting Big A. sleep in, leisurely being with him (with my eyes, my attention, my tone of voice), and then going to school.  I’ll recall the times I remembered what is most important.

mutual regard

So it’ll take some time (ha!) to get the busy and the hurry out of our nervous systems. But I am committing myself to “the ban on busy”. I’m committing myself to not being in a hurry.  To slowing it all down.  And really, there is no time to be in a rush.  Life is precious.  Short and precious.

Drop the Mama Guilt and Get Resourced

I’m a mindful parent. I also work with parents every day to bring more compassion and mindfulness into their lives, including their parenting. I think it’s fabulous how much attention parenting is getting these days. What drives me nuts are posts on some parenting sites and blogs that guilt mamas (and dads) into loving every minute of being a parent and being absolutely perfectly present in every moment.

Holy tamole. It’s too much! There is soooooooooo much focus on how to parent in loving and kind ways – how to effectively manage tantrums, teenagers talking back, and messy rooms. (Actually there is too much information out there that folks don’t know where to go and what to advise to listen to…and so they feel frozen).

And while that’s great, what I DON’T see much of is this: resourcing mom and dad. Teaching mom and dad how to be gentle and kind to ourselves. How to allow ourselves to be human. How to be present to our own hearts and yearnings and sadness and yes, even rage and mourning. And learning to gently tend to and nourish ourselves.

That’s the “harder” stuff. You can focus on discipline strategies ‘til you are blue in the face and things may change…for a moment. But the realllll shifts in our lives AND in our children (and their behavior) come from this: mom and dad learning to be kind and compassionate with our own selves.

We all want our children to grow to become confident, happy, and compassionate adults. A sure way to support this is for us to be kind and gentle with ourselves – to be with whatever rises up within us, responding with compassionate attention.

THIS is the foundation of every single effective parenting or disciplining strategy.

So enooooooough focus on guilting mama into loving every moment of the day. Enooooough telling us that “oh you’d better savor it because…” WE GET IT. Instead, let’s focus on the harder stuff to explain and put into words. Let’s focus on the murkier work. Let’s focus our attention on our own hearts and bodies. Ask yourself: what do you love? What is drawing your attention – from the depths of you?

Let yourself be silently drawn
by the strange pull of what you really love.
It will not lead you astray.
~ Rumi ~

Be the goddess you are. Be the goddess you are called to be. Maybe that means speaking your truth in a way that has been silenced for too long. Maybe that means wearing soft, flowy sensual clothing in fabrics that allow you to move and breathe. Maybe that’s creating, making art, painting, writing. Whatever it is, do it.

(By the way…the blogs/websites on my Blog Roll are about resourcing mamas!)

This is what love feels like

This is What Love Feels Like

Laying down
for a nap
with my daughter

curled up with
my belly
to her back
my arms
around her
little almost
three year old
body

little feet
resting on
my thighs

rhythmic
breathing
deeply
together

we sleep

sacred
holy
complete

this
is
what
love
feels
like.

Lisa A. McCrohan, 2013

Everyday Courage

I’ve been reading Brene Brown’s book, “Daring Greatly.”  It is extraordinary.  What she has researched and writes about is what my heart intuitively knows.  Soooo much more to come, but I wanted to share this…

Living courageously is choosing to find, notice, cultivate, and savor the good RIGHT here in our everyday lives!  It’s choosing to connect instead of close off or disconnect because you feel vulnerable and scared, brought on by ollllllld wiring in your brain that is NO LONGER useful!

Today is hardly an ideal day.  We have one sick one – high fever.  Brian is working.  We both have to teach tonight — it’s the first night of a series we are part of facilitating at church.  We have a two year old who wants mom’s attention.  Crazy ads are appearing on my blog and website and facebook page.  We have a ton of things to do for this upcoming week.  Lunch needs to be made.  You know how it is.  You want to create, you have work to do, kids are crying and fighting, your hair isn’t done and you forgot to shave your legs (again!), let alone you haven’t exercised or meditated today.

This is EXACTLY when we need to PAUSE.  To stop right in that moment you feel a tightness coming across your chest.  And soften.  Looooook fooooor the gooooooood.  It’s right here.  In your everyday life.  This is where the magic is — right here in the messiness of our ordinary day.  Put down your cell phone.  Let the dinner-making be for a bit.  Pull out a popsicle if you need to!  And hold your little one – your toddler or teenager – and look at them!  Look at them with regard and love.

Today, I am delighting in Little C’s rainboots and batgirl outfit and how she has a story going on at any given moment of the day.  I’m holding our little five year old with a fever and…doing nothing extraordinary — just trying to be present and kind and love him.  THAT is magic.  THAT is courage in action.

Mindful Moment: Stay and Soften

One evening in December, our bedtime ritual started out like to does every night:  brushing teeth, pjs, a book, a few songs, a prayer (sometimes we sing it!), and me laying with our two year old daughter while Brian lays with our five year old son.

Our son, he is out in like two minutes.  Kindergarten does that to a boy!  Our daughter, she loves to chat, sing, lay there, ask for more milk, cuddle.  Most nights, I savor it.  I linger with Little C.  I whisper my prayers.  I lay there in the quiet, holding her, listening to her breathe…and then ask another question.  When Little C was a few months old, I wrote this poem:

My Skin Remembers

In the dark stillness of the early morning,

before the first glimmers of dawn appear through our bedroom window,

Brian brings Clara to me for an early morning feeding.

She is half awake half asleep now nuzzled next to me.

Her little feet rest on my bare belly as she wraps one arm over my chest

and tucks the other under my breast to nurse.

I am laying on my side, my left arm stretched out on the bed

and heat from the top of Clara’s head warms the inside of my elbow.

My right arm wraps around her tiny, plump, six month old body.

Our bellies touching rise and fall together in a soft rhythm.

Though my body begs for more sleep, I don’t mind being up so early

before the sunlight slowly dances into our room.

I know now with my second child that this will not last forever.

There will come a day when I will long to hold my babies again

just      like     this

and my skin will ache with nostalgia.

But this morning, I also know that when that day comes,

a smile will rise up from within me

as my skin remembers breathing in

this

very

moment.

Butttttt….there are times when I am think “O.M.G., you gotta go to sleep!”  I am tired, needing space, needing to be on my own for a bit.  And that’s when my meditation practice comes into play.

“It’s ok to feel this way, Lisa.”

“It’s ok to want time alone, to need space.”

In those moments, I try to remind myself to practice self-compassion instead of beating myself up with mama guilt “Oh I shouldn’t feel this way!  I should be oh-so-very present AND loving every minute of it.  Why don’t I feel that way? What’s wrong with ME?  So-and-so…you’d never hear that from her!  She loves everything about being a mom….”  It goes on, doesn’t it?  Well, instead of going down THAT path, ….

I pause.  I stay with what is rising up.  I don’t push it away.  I just stay.  I hold my heart and my needs and my yearnings close, with breath and spaciousness.  I soften.  And the once intense emotions and thoughts shift.

What rises up is a sense of “ahhhh, ok.  I’m ok.  This is ok.”  And then I’m able to make a clearer, more compassionate choice.

So back to this one night in December…

I thought my Little C. was asleep.  I slowly rolled out of her bed and started to get up to leave.

“Mommy, where you going?”

OHHHH I could’ve lost it.  I was tired.  It was late.  I felt my feet on the earth (on our “beautiful” carpet stained with milk and god knows what else!), I softened, breathed…

And then Little C. continued, “Mama, you stay with me?”

STAY WITH ME.  These words cut riiiight through to what is most important.  Right through any frustration, tiredness, need for alone time.

I turned back into the room, got into bed again with Little C., and said, “Yes, my Love, I’ll stay with you.” 

We laid like that for a long while.  Just in silence.  Me — softening, letting it all go, noticing, allowing.

And then Little C. whispers – half asleep, half awake, “Mommy?”

Me: “Yes, Love?”

Little C.: “I love you.”

Then she fell sound asleep.

As I pulled the covers up over her little chest, as I walked out of the quiet room, I thought about how that could’ve gone comPLETELY different.  There are times it has — when I’m like, “BABY!  You gotta go to sleep!”  Times when I lay there but I’m not really present.  Times when I am tired and under resourced.  And I react.  Instead of respond.  And as I walked out of the room, I found myself oh so grateful for the intention I set years ago to be a mindful mama, for how that has informed my practice of SOFTENING, tending to, allowing, being with, being gentle IN OUR EVERYDAY LIFE.  I found myself bowing to the community of moms and  dads who are on this journey of healing our world through being RIGHT HERE, present to and regarding our little ones.

STAY.  STAY AND SOFTEN.  With our own hearts, with our little ones.  I am finding that the more I offer myself such sweet spaciousness, the more I am able to extend that to my dear ones.  And I smile softly, with no regrets.

I can’t

Moms.  We are a powerful bunch.  Blood, vomit, skinned knees and elbows, broken bones, broken hearts, lost lovies, middle of the night hugs and holding.  Can’t find your favorite blanket?  No problem.  Want to play basketball this winter?  We’ll get you there.  Gotta do a fundraiser?  Let’s do it.  We make it happen.  We handle it.

But in a world of perfect pinterest pictures and crafts and recipes; in a world where ultimately the buck stops with us; in a world where many of us don’t have the luxury of generations of women with us throughout the day…

…we can feel responsible…for EVERYthing.  How our children act and feel, how the house looks, the finances, menus for meals, making sure our kiddos get enough rest and love and warm clothes and friends and piano practice and exposure to the arts, birthday parties, homemade cupcakes, the right presents…etc etc.

We are the family’s pediatrician, chef, party planner, CPA, soccer coach, chauffeur, social planner, interior designer, hair dresser, breadwinner, school board rep, historian and picture taker…

We get up. We make it happen.  Kiddos are bathed and dressed and sometimes we are, too.

But over the years, though I have felt this ever increasing surge of “at the end of the day, I’m responsible for it all,” I have also found myself saying, “I can’t do it.”

And more and more on a regular basis.

This morning was one of those “I can’t” days.

I can’t stay up till midnight editing family pictures in time for today’s party and get up early and not be exhausted.  I can’t be present to my kiddos when they seem to really just need ME this morning and do the final touches on my presents for family.  I can’t make homemade butternut squash soup, vacuum (at least the main floor!), straighten up, clean the main bathroom, get dressed, get the kiddos fed and happy and off each other, get Christmas cards in the mail, get to mass, get ready for the party at our house WHILE BRIAN IS AT WORK.

I can’t do it alone.

“I can’t do it,” I found myself silently saying to myself as I threw the unbaked butternut squash back into the frig and responded harshly to the kiddos asking for a snack and looked at the disaster of a kitchen.  I called Brian, “I can’t do it.”

A tightness gripped my stomach and spread up to my throat.  I had to admit I couldn’t do it today.

I am not super mom. And though I don’t try to be, I admit, there are times I feel “responsible” as though I were super mom.

Today, this morning, I am tired and cranky and alone mom.  I am  frazzled mom.  I am in-need-of-a-nap-and-some-help mom.  I am in-need-of-breakfast mom.

I couldn’t and I didn’t.

Unknowingly, my dear friend and neighbor happened to call in the middle of it all.  “I’m going to the Common Market, do you need anything?”

God bless you!  “Yes, I need twine!”

“Twine?”

“Yes, twine.  To wrap the cards I made for the girls in my family.”

“I’ve got some.  It’s in tangled in a ball — the kiddos got to it and….”

She didn’t even have to explain.  I got it.  And she got me!

My five year old, who is always spot on and honest and an extrovert who shares, “Mom, you’re kind of like Aunt Petunia this morning (the awful aunt in Harry Potter).  What gives?” And he gave me a hug.

So Brian came.  I slept.  He made the soup, put Clara down for a nap, and straightened up enough.  And from upstairs, I heard…nothing.  And it was beautiful.

I received their kindness today.

We’ve all heard, “Tis better to give than to receive.”

Nope.  It’s harder to receive.  When you give, you are in control.  You are “on top.”  Often someone feels indebted to you.  You get a warm, fuzzy feeling and often a warm and verbose “THANK YOU!”

When you receive…you are brought to the vulnerable raw, helpless, needy parts of yourself.  You are humbled by your own weakness and often times…brokenness.

It’s hard to be in that place.  God forbid we admit being needy and vulnerable and unable to “make it happen.”

Over the years of having kiddos I have been brought to my knees many times — in prayer, sleep deprived and exhausted rocking and nursing, to the toilet vomiting (mine or my kiddos), the floor wiping up god knows what spilled, and into the arms of my Brian saying, “I can’t do it.”

It’s hard to admit that.  But I can’t.  I can’t be present to my kiddos and get a million things done.  I can’t be on the PTA, our CPA, FB, or…some other acronym…and cook homemade meals, blog every day, work, write, do yoga, meditate…..blah blah blah.

So I don’t.

But I can do a few things. And do them with love and attention and kindness.  And that’s what my life is about — being mindful of slowing down, of noticing what really matters, of being ok with not having it all together.  That’s what parenting is teaching me.

I…we all..can do one thing in a moment instead of mulit-tasking and busying our lives and doing a crappy job at it.

We can sllllllllow down.

Leave the dishes.  Forget nicely wrapped presents.  Slow down and receive the moment.

Receive…

This breath.

This hug from your little one,

this Grace,

this help,

this kindness from others.

And so, this morning, my “act of kindness” was to myself (and ultimately, my family!).  I took a nap so I’d wake up as Lisa. Not Aunt Petunia.  Lisa whose eyes smile tenderly at my little ones. Lisa whose can greet family and make folks feel welcomed and loved.  Lisa who can handle a new marble game all over the floor.  Lisa who can hold Little C all afternoon.   Lisa who can read another chapter and another and another of “The MAgic Tree House” to my son.  Lisa who can say, “Thank you” to Brian at the end of a beautiful, humbling day.

Acts of Kindness #5: notes to our son’s teachers

Our son started kindergarten this year.  He’s five and a half.  FIVE AND A HALF.  Just about the age of the children who died in Sandy Hook.  I have only been able to look at their beautiful pictures for a few moments at a time.  I see the same sense of delight and awe and cleverness in them that I see in my own little one at this age.  I can’t take it in quite yet.

What I can “take in” right now is how the teachers – those who died and those who survived – protected their students, their children, with such a sense of “giving themselves over” to them…literally.

I can resonate with that.  I can understand that.  I can sense in every muscle, fiber, tissue, sinew of my being how a woman would do that, how a mom would do that (men, too, I’m sure.  I’m speaking from my own sense as a mom and woman).  It’s instinctual.  Now I don’t know if I’d think clearly in a situation like that, but I know the laser-like, clear prompt to protect a little one.

We’ve all tapped into that, haven’t we?  On the playground, in the parking lot….

So I have been thinking about the teachers.  I have been thinking about my own son’s teachers.

Ms. M. takes the time to greet each child in the morning.  She goes to each one, bends down, extends her hand, tenderly looks them in the eye — with her eyes and mouth smiling, and she says, “Good morning, …….  I am so glad to see you today!”  EACH CHILD.  EVERY MORNING.  She lingers for a few seconds, though when we are being truly “seen,” when you are being truly regarded, time stops.

The message of “you matter,” “I care for you,”  “I see you,” communicated, repeated EVERY DAY begins to take up residence in a little one’s soul. He begins to believe this message.  She begins to carry it with her — in her thoughts…about herself, the world.  He learns how to see others.  She learns how to love others…

…Just from an everyday, seemingly insignificant moment of pause.  Repeated.  Every day.

Mrs. A. has the wise, grounded, loving presence of a grandmother.  Her steady patience with a small group of children at a table learning to read or do math creates a sense of safety…to investigate, to make mistakes, to take time, to be with and in the struggle, to celebrate the moments of “Ohhh I’ve got it!”

So I made them cards.

I told them how appreciative we are of their presence,

the way the care for all our children,

their mindful attention,

their true regard and compassion for our little ones.

Our teachers are with our children five days a week, 6-7 hours a day.  Who they are matters.  How resourced they are matters — how supported they feel by administration and parents, how much they are paid, how much time they get to plan their day, how much time they get in a day to nurture themselves.  All of this matters.  They are the protectors of our little one’s — their physical bodies, their emotional and social bodies, and their growing sense of self.

Let’s be about resourcing our teachers.  Because how they love and the presence they have with our children matters…for a lifetime.

28 Acts of Kindness

I just read Ann Curry’s story.  It started with her asking, “What would happen if a whole bunch of people committed to doing 20 acts of kindness in honor of those who died in Newton, CT last week?”  She tweeted the idea.  Folks responded.  Tons of folks.  Some committed to the original 20.  Some upped it to 26 to honor the children and teachers who died.  Some said, “How about 28 to honor all who died?”

Tonight, our family is committing to doing 28 acts of kindness.

Thumbs up!

While my kiddos are young and don’t know about what happened in Newton, CT, they are in to doing random acts of kindness.  We call it “superhero kindness.”  My kiddos are in to superheroes.  And ninjas.  And Harry Potter.  So with a bit of superhero strength, ninja agility, and Harry Potter magic, we are going to set out to do 28 acts of kindness to honor those who died.

Patience Salgrado, kindness girl extraordinaire, says, “kindness changes everything.”  And it does.  I’ve seen it.  As a psychotherapist, yoga teacher, and mindfulness teacher listening to clients who are inspired by someone doing something kind for them and changed when they commit to “looking for the opportunities” for kindness in our everyday lives…kindness toward themselves and kindness toward their dear ones.  Then it spreads.  Kindness to complete strangers.  Kindness to the person they once could never forgive.  Yes, kindness changes everything.

As a mom, I’ve seen how kindness changes everything…the whole tone of our house…when I muster up some kindness at dinner time when everyone is hungry and cranky and wanting something.  “Here, sweet love, Clara.  Here’s your milk” as I pick her up and hug her sweet little body close to mine.   “Aidan, show me some Aikido moves! Ahhhh-yaaaah!”  as we “dual” for awhile and laughs fill our beloved kitchen.

http://www.wakeup-world.com

“Today I wake up empty and frightened.

Don’t go to the door of the study and read a book.

Instead, take down the dulcimer,

let the beauty of what you love be what you do.

There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the ground,

there are a thousand ways to go home again.”

– Rumi

There are a thousand simple, everyday ways to heal, to go home…it starts with BEING that love that is stirring in your heart!  It starts with listening to that prompt, that whisper, that wellspring in the center of your chest to SHARE that love in the ways that are totally you.

What’ll happen?!  Watch out, world!  Kindness changes everything, folks.  Our hearts, homes, neighborhoods, and world.

The perfectly imperfect

Here’s our 2012 family photo.  It was taken by our nine year old neighbor. Let me tell the story…

My son and daughter were outside playing up at the playground behind our house.  As it often happens, some neighbors joined us.  Maybe were all thinking the same thing:  enjoy the warmer weather before it gets really cold.  There we were, all playing and chasing each other in freeze tag.  I saw Brian back at home getting the xmas lights out.  I said, “Hey kiddos, let’s go over and see dad.”  He was working in the side yard putting lights on our three tiny crate myrtles.  If there’s anything in our yard that makes my heart softly smile, it’s these three trees.  Given to us by Brian’s parents when Clara was born, I cherish them each time I look out our kitchen window (which, can be a LOT when you are feeding what seems like an army of kids under five!).  So we all ran down to our house, our two neighbor friends and all.

I remember watching as these two girls jumped right in, just like family, and said, “Can we help?”  I remember thinking, “It’s not even their yard and they are putting their whole selves in to doing this!”  I stood there, watching them, wondering how many times we I give of myself so completely to another person’s project that is not mine at all — I’ll derive no benefit from it, no reward, no …anything – like these two girls were doing right in that moment.  My heart swelled with gratitude for these two girls — all but seven and nine years old — for showing my what true “gifting” is.  I started to tear up.  I breathed in the moment — “this is perfect,” I said to myself, as I watched my five year old son waving his Harry Potter wand around, my two year old whispering a spell under her breath, two neighbors helping string up lights, and my patient husband in the middle of it all.

I happened to have my camera that late afternoon.  I began snapping a few pics.  The nine year old asked, “Can I see your camera?”  I thought, “Why not?”  And I showed her how to take a picture.  And then I had an idea.  I asked her, “Would you mind taking a picture of us?”  She said, “I’d love to!”

And this is the picture she took.

2012 family photo

I love it.  Not because it’s perfect – -it’s not.  I’m out of focus just a bit.  We all don’t match.  I’m not wearing a cute outfit.  My daughter isn’t looking at the camera.  You can’t really see what the kiddos are sitting on (our Step 1 slide given to us by my cousins who outgrew it).  Our son is in his Harry Potter jacket (barrowed from another neighbor who knew he loved Harry Potter and brought it over to him the week of Halloween).

But it is PERFECT.  Why?

Because it will always remind me of how one innocent moment of generosity can make hearts weep.   It will always remind me of how spontaneous shots JUST AS WE ARE capture how it really is with us — Harry Potter, Wonder Woman, uncombed hair and all.  It will always remind me of how I get what I ask for, long for – maybe just not in the way I envision it: neighbors being about each other, helping each other, with no reason or reward except it feels good to be doing it together.   And that makes the imperfect quite perfect.

Tips for Parenting with Compassion #9: Intrinsic vs. Extrinsic Rewards

Ok folks.  This seems to be coming up a lot.  Maybe I’m attuned to it, but I seem to be hearing this a lot lately.  I see it a lot with that Elf on a Shelf.  If you have one, get rid of it.  Yes, I feel that strongly about it.  It utilizes manipulation in order to get our kiddos to do something we want.  It is ALL about extrinsicly motivating kiddos.  It’s creepy and it’s fear based.

And I get it:  we parents are tired and under resourced.  Under stress, we default to what parenting strategies our parents used with us.  We want something easy and quick.  I get that.

But I am telling you, if you start focusing on INVESTING your time and energy into practicing some “Compassionate connection” strategies, you will soon see how SIMPLE it is.  No, not always EASY.  But the more and more you practice these, the more you build up that neuro pathway in your brain and CONNECTING with your child will become your default. You’ll see what a HUGE difference this makes in your relationship with your child.  AND you’ll notice a difference in your child.  Want a child to have faith in himself?  Want a teen to go within and sense for him or herself what is the right decision?  Want to nurture a child to become an adult who knows their passions and gifts, feels confident, and owns their life?  LIMIT YOUR EXTRINSIC REWARDS.

What’s the big deal with utilizing extrinsic rewards?

Using rewards actually BACKFIRES.  Research shows that kiddos do LESS of the behavior when they have been extrinsically rewarded!

Check out this article from Aha Parenting http://www.ahaparenting.com/_blog/Parenting_Blog/post/Bribery_versus_Incentives_and_Win_WIn_solutions/

Here is a great easy-t0read, short article.  http://www.naturalchild.org/jan_hunt/rewards.html.

I thought these two studies were interesting.  http://www.oncourseworkshop.com/motivation004.htm.

Here is a GREAT website to have on your bookmarks.  http://www.handinhandparenting.org/

Ok, so what do you do instead?

Well, let me start with an example.  Years ago, we were at the pediatrician’s office.  It was one of those appointments where my son was going to get a few shots.  The nurse came in and was like, “Oh, today’s appointment is a hard one!  But it’ll be over soon and maybe mommy will take you to McDonald’s because you were so brave!”

What do YOU think the problem with this was??  And don’t even get me started on using FOOD as a motivator!

INSTEAD of taking our son to McDonald’s, or giving him a toy or REWARDING him with any THING (or even a COMMENT from me such as: “Yes, you ARE so brave!”  Which, research shows, too, has a negative impact on a child’s sense of self-worth and negatively impacts behavior!), I FOCUSED ON CONNECTING WITH HIM.  I focused on being PRESENT with him, letting him know I was here with him and for him.  I DID NOT let the nurse hold him down (think: “trauma producing”).  I told the nurse how we’d do it.  YES, you heard that right — I told the nurse how we’d do it based on how I knew my child and what would work best for him.  That meant:  slowing down the appointment, not doing all the “scheduled” shots but the number I felt comfortable with, giving him a sense of empowerment by asking him what he needed, giving him information about the process (this was done WAAAY beforehand by reading to him about going to the doctor and letting him “practice” giving me shots), and letting him jump up when he was finished and move around and “let loose”, if you will.

Don’t get caught in our specifics.  These were things we did based on knowing our son.  The bottom line is instead of using extrinsic rewards, here are some  ideas:

1.  FOCUS ON CONNECTING WITH YOUR CHILD.

“I see you are hurting.  I’m here with you.”  Or for less dramatic times than shots, like dealing with a messy room, TALK TO THEM.  LISTEN to them.  Share how you feel.  Illicit their help in problem solving based on what everyone’s needs are.  (Get real with yourself.  What’s the REAL reason you want your child’s room to be clean?)

2.  Model the behavior you want. 

I was in the car the other day and the kiddos were not getting along.  I had it.  I was done.  I turned around and started yelling at them, “Aidan, I’m sick of you not being kind to your sister!  This has been going on all day!  Enough!  Start being kind to her NOW!”  What do you think happened?!  Clara started crying and said, “Mommy is angry.”  I looked in the rear-view mirror and Aidan was sinking down into his carseat — he felt horrible…about HIMSELF.  Yes, what irony:  I was wanting Aidan to be kinder and here I was yelling and threatening.  Don’t do that!   Instead… GET A GRIP.  This was all really about my OWN stuff (that’s another post) and I was tired (read: “not resourced”).  Instead, what would’ve been more helpful would have been to turn on some good music, start acting silly, illicit Aidan’s help in starting a game we could play.  I recognized this in the moment of yelling.  What did I do?  See #5 below.  And then I said to the kiddos: “Let’s have a redo.  I was mad.  I am tired.  I’m sorry.  Clara, I see you are upset.  Aidan, I see you scrunched down.  I don’t want that.  Can we regroup?  It’s been a long car ride.  Let’s put on some good xmas music and sing along.  How would that be?”  And it went MUCH smoother.

3.  Ask yourself, WHY DOES MY CHILD NEED BRIBERY or a REWARD for this behavior?? 

Really spend some time here.  Is it because I’m too exhausted (or stuck in a “shame cycle”) to be present with them?

4.  Dialogue with your child about the intrinsic rewards. 

Ask, “How do you feel when you share your book with your sister?”  Get them into their own bodies and hearts to notice what their internal experience is…and learn to trust it.  TALK to them about what’s HARD about doing their homework right after school.  TELL THEM about how you feel when you put your keys and purse and coat away right when you get home and the “reward” you get: ie, you can find your stuff again and you don’t have to worry about losing them.

5.  Ask yourself, “What is it I want?”  And: “What’s really going on here?”

Underneath the desire you have for your child to behave or certain way, there may be some hidden unmet need of YOURS going on.  When we use punishment or manipulation or cruelty, some part of us feels threatened, like we don’t have control, and fearful.  GET TO THE ROOT OF THAT!

My example from the car:  I was TIRED.  I had a long day and I needed a break.  Underneath the exhaustion was this thought: “Oh god, I’m a crappy parent.  I must be doing something wrong.  Otherwise he wouldn’t be acting like that.”  AND: “Oh my gosh, he’s going to do this for the rest of his life. “  AND: “He must feel like crap about himself and I must have failed him as a parent.”  That’s all MYYYYYYYY stuff.  Not my son’s.  THAT is what was really all motivating my REACTION (vs. response).

(*People often want to know what I do in that situation — when I recognize what’s really going on under the surface.  I try to pause.  I sloooooooow everything down.  I offer myself presence.  I offer myself compassion.  And that ALWAYS – yes always – results in opening up the space to then have compassion for others).

Ok, those are a few thoughts for this evening.  Put the elf thing away.   You don’t need it.  Your children don’t need it.  They just need you.  They need you resourced.  They need your kind eyes and safe presence.