I Was Shocked--Even a Little Horrified!

UPDATE: This article was well-received in my community, so I entered it into a parenting essay contest. One of the judges responded that the article falls short because the author never explains what DISABILITY her child has that requires so much patience. I was shocked--even a little horrified. Does the dominant paradigm believe that the only children deserving of patience are those with disabilities?

"One of the first signs that a child is feeling disconnected is a
drop in the level of cooperation. When a child is uncooperative, we can
take him gently aside and quietly ask, 'What is this behavior about?
What do you need?' Even if the child cannot tell us if the behavior is
caused by an unmet emotional need, asking the question, 'What do you
need?' creates connection. The first step to cooperation is
connection."

-- Pam Leo, Connection Parenting: Parenting Through Connection Instead of Coercion, Through Love Instead of Fear

I need to get home and rain is dumping on my back as I try to buckle my one-year-old into her car seat. She cries and fights me.

I push the grocery bags aside and climb into the back seat. I try to empathize and honor my little girl’s feelings. I say, "Marli, I see you're really upset. I know it's hard to do things we don't want to do, but we need to go home, so I'm going to put you in your car seat."

But I know there is no reasoning with people when they are flooded with emotions. And I’m well aware that toddlers are stuck in their emotional lower brain much of the time, so expecting them not to have "tantrums" is just unrealistic. How do we soothe them and help them through this stage?

Marli expresses her anger by hitting me. I respond with, “That hurt mommy. It's not okay to hit people." As I say this, I’m thinking, “How can I teach my girl appropriate ways to express anger?” I think about my own anger – how I express it toward her father, how I tend to become passive-aggressive or inflict a punishing silent treatment. Uh-oh! I need to work on that and become a better role model.

I don't want to yell at Marli or throw her in the car seat. I recall what I've been learning at the Center: “Find the Yes Behind the No.” I say, "Hitting hurts, baby. But you can hit the car seat, or you can throw something soft like your bunny. Or you can cry."

Marli hits her car seat, then grabs the top of it and tries to shake it. I smile a little – it's amazing to watch her process. Shaking the car seat seems to provide her with a satisfying release. As she cries I don’t say, "It's okay," because right now Marli doesn’t feel okay. Instead I say, "You're having big feelings and mama's here to help you through this."

I rub Marli’s back and she pushes my hand away. I'm learning that when Marli's upset she does not want to be touched. With the gentlest tone I can muster, I explain, “I'm going to pick you up and put you in the car seat, then we'll drive home and put the groceries away. Later we’ll eat, nap and play at the park. I remind her of the fun we’ll soon share – the swings, the slides and the sand.

I try to sit Marli down, but she screams hysterically. My own frustration is mounting and I’m trying not to snap. We need to get home! It’s obvious now I’m going to have to wrestle Marli into the car seat. When she cries, I'll just have to see it as an exercise in building up my tolerance to crying. Then, I'll try to hold her with my voice by singing softly on the way home because I’ve learned that music soothes Marli.

I try to pick Marli up but she’s latched her hands onto the top of the car seat and won’t let go. I try to pry her away. Marli rigidly locks her legs and won’t bend them. She screams and I want to scream right along with her shouting, "Just stop it!" But this feels wrong.

I don't want to tell Marli to stop crying because I don't want to send the message that feelings should be shut off. My goal as a parent is not control, but maintaining a connection and building a relationship.

My thoughts turn to Pam Leo’s book, Connection Parenting. I remember what she says about a drop in the level of cooperation being a sign that a child feels disconnected. She suggests asking what the child needs. I consciously stop and think: What need is my daughter trying to get met?

I remember the anagram I learned at the Center, ‘OF NEEDS’ -- Observe, Feelings, Needs, Engage, Empathy, Develop Solutions. I follow these steps by first observing Marli without judgment. Marli is standing in her car seat, tears streaming down her red face, bouncing up and down, pointing to something with wide eyes. I’ve already identified her feelings of anger and frustration. When I consider her needs, the “Five A’s” come to mind: attention, affection, acceptance, appreciation and autonomy.

While I silently observe her, Marli gradually calms down and even begins to giggle. She looks at me and excitedly points at something. It’s as if she’s trying to show me something, I don't see anything beside the car window misting up with rain.

I try to empathize by imagining the scene from Marli’s vantage point. She points again and laughs. I look and I see raindrops dotting and rolling down the window! It's a beautiful sight! In this lovely moment of connection, I also see something else: I need to slow down. I need to enjoy this life I am sharing with my child.

I warmly re-engage with Marli. In a tender tone of voice, I say, "I wonder if you're feeling sad about getting in your car seat because you want to watch the rain? Maybe you’re feeling a need to explore? I imagine you're feeling excited because this is one of your first experiences with rain." I consciously decide to honor Marli’s needs. I say, "Mommy didn't understand that you were really enjoying watching the rain. I'm sorry. Let's watch the rain together for a bit, and then we'll go home."

Marli leaves her car seat and crawls into my lap. I take some deep breaths. We cuddle up and watch the rain. It's wonderful. I realize it’s one of the most peaceful, playful and loving moments I've experienced.

After about twenty minutes, I sing the good-bye song and Marli claps along happily. I say, "Let's say bye-bye to the rain." She says, "bye-bye," and leans toward her car seat. I buckle her in effortlessly.

Fighting with Marli and attempting to force her into the car seat may have worked, eventually. But both of us would have been miserable. Instead, we connected.

Getting my little girl into the car seat is not always smooth, but now I plan for it to be a long process. For a while, Marli enjoyed exploring the interior car lights - she wanted to play with them before getting into her car seat. I tried to leave early enough so that her curiosity was something we could share and enjoy, rather than a source of anxiety for me.

The main goal is not getting home, but connecting. Rather than rushing through the day and struggling to make my daughter do what I want, I seek creative and playful ways that we can enjoy our precious moments together."