A little boy walks up to his mother and says, “I am sorry Mommy for making you mad.”
The mom responds, in surprise, that she was never angry. She was a little frustrated that he wasn’t listening. “Really? Huh.” A little girl comes out of time out and her parents ask her what she did wrong. “I made you mad.” “No, honey. We weren’t mad at you. We were disappointed in your behavior and sad. “Oh.” “Daddy, why did you yell at me? Are you mad?” “No. I was scared. You scared me.” We know that nonverbal communication is important. But do we know how our nonverbal communication is being received by children who might not have the emotional vocabulary to distinguish between more complex or layered emotions? I am not so sure. If you ask, could your toddler show you disappointed or hopeful? Could your elementary school student distinguish between a face reflecting pain and a face showing anger? Could your middle school aged child detect that a mouth offering friendship was attached to a disingenuous face? We learn from repetition and rehearsal. We memorize the basic information and expand on it as our capacity to understand increases. There is more than happy and mad to your communication with your children. Here is an experiment to test what they are receiving. EXPERIMENT: Find a camera. With a helpful friend, partner, or spouse take turns snapping the following photos:
Print these pictures and label the backs. Mix them up and hand them to your child (ren). Ask them what they think you are feeling. Are your emotions transmitting clearly or is this a good time for a conversation. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE share your experience with this experiment-share your facial expressions. Maybe your partner or spouse might want to play as well. I have a hard time distinguishing between “pain” and “angry.”
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It is important to me that when I commit I honor the promise it implies. If I say that I will arrive at ten am then, barring dawdling toddler delays (so much dawdling!), I will be there. If I commit to help then I want you to feel confident that I will be present and pleasant. Many of us,err on the side of saying yes and risk our well being by over committing. This is especially true when there is so many exciting things to do as there are in the Fall- I am a Fall junkie and love all things Halloween. October is invariably a mad race and a flurry of costume changes.
Saying no can be hard but it is as important that we say no when necessary as it is to say yes to opportunities that will strengthen us, our relationships, and stretch us in some way. I cannot presume to tell you when ‘no’ is necessary and when a hard ‘yes’ is worth the effort, but I will say that the priority must be the ‘yes’ that has another counting on you. If I would rather say ‘yes’ to the fun then I probably should not have committed to the work. It is my challenge to find the fun within the work, the flow within the task that allows me to enjoy it. ”The Bacon Thief” and “Look Deep Dear Dragon” are this month’s commitment and I am happy to say the first will be out by tomorrow and the second soon after. Please read, review, and share! What my Face is Telling Me
This year. This year has certainly marked me. I see it here, staring at my face in an unforgiving bathroom mirror as I push back bedtime in exchange for just a few more moments of silence and solitude. As a parent you might understand that need. In the stillness I can reflect on my day, my lists, and my plans. Or I can avoid it all and slip into a welcome story without the worry of interruption. Laugh lines that were once flirtations at the sides of my eyes have settled in to stay it seems. I laughed a lot this year and it is good to remember that. I laughed with my husband, my children, my family, friends, and the occasional stranger in the check out line. I laughed with and at myself more this year than I might have in the past and was rewarded by small boosts in my sense of self. I screamed my joy at finally earning my doctorate and laughed until I cried at the antics of child one and child two. I earned those crinkles. I hope my pleasure in the company I keep was felt. I am very blessed in my small tribe. I cried this year. I see those lines too I think, here on my face. I can see my tears and my worry in the shadows beneath my eyes and the lines on my forehead which make me too frequently contemplate bangs. I see in my reflection a loss I grieve and too often downplay. I see the work of maintaining a good marriage, a family, and an identity separate but not removed from both. I see where my temper tears have let loose and the impact of my stress response to minor inconveniences which are part of my current norms. I don’t hide my tears. Sometimes, for us and for children, that one thing tips us just beyond our current coping capability and tears can release the building pressure. If I don’t allow them their release my face might start to show resentment along my jaw. My thinking wrinkle between my eyes has is ever with me now. I must have focused a lot-or felt frustration. With two children around? Nah. The wrinkle reminds me of child two’s growth this year and the number of times I have responded with, “Huh? What was that? Use your words” to a gibbering one year old. It reminds me of child one’s increasingly clever maneuverings and, more disturbing, his rational explanations to gain his way that make me stop and think about my decisions. As I look at it I remind myself of how much I still don’t know and how many questions I’ve asked. I remember how much work I have put into learning new things this year. That brings a smile and the return of happy crinkles. This is the face of my womanhood. It shows my stories, my unmet needs, and the cravings of both body and soul. It declares, without regard for to-do lists and schedules, what small neglects are made in the name of motherhood and late night reading. It shows my bad habits and my good choices. All in all, it is a face I can look at with love in the mirror and one I am going to keep sharing in the coming year. And, knowing what those lines mean, I will try to look for signs of worry, frustrations, grief, stress, and resentment in those I care for. By noticing foreheads, between and under eyes, as well as nose, jaw, and mouth lines I might offer just a bit more care to myself and to those I care about. Choose your mood.
Scratched out on an old chalkboard in my kitchen in yellow is this sentence. Strategically placed above my coffee pot it serves as a regular reminder to live in the moment and to consider who holds the power over me-myself, others, or circumstances. In every interaction, we make a decision about the power something or someone has to influence us. When we allow an external force power over our mood we surrender a piece of our will to it. At times this can be a good thing. The validation from someone we respect can encourage us to keep trying. A compliment which elicits a smile can carry us through the day. Its power to brighten our smile and lighten our step can make us more attractive to the world and a greater force for good ourselves. I have found that if I walk with a song in my head, a bouncy and cheerful tune, my body looses tension and my smile and conversation come more readily. I am more likely to pass on positivity myself. I am happy to give that song, that compliment, that validation the opportunity to work in me. Choose your influences. Not written anywhere but on a scrap piece of paper in my writing notebook is this sentence. It is tucked away, I suspect, not because it is less important, but because of the risk it voices. It is a silent fear to know that not all influences are positive and that we cannot shield ourselves or our children from its danger. In respecting our children’s right to develop autonomy we accept the risk that they might be influenced by those who might erode their sense of competency, self-worth, and industry (Luxenberg, n.d.). Those who might take their power. We risk the integration of “normalized” behaviors which contradict our values. Children make choices everyday. They may seem small but are effectively the first steps in a long journey toward the discovery of self. Children choose whether to be honest, to demonstrate integrity, to make and maintain friendships, and to move away from the safety offered them by their caretakers (Luxenberg, n.d.). Properly supported, adolescents who are seeking their identities maintain their attachment to their adult caregivers despite the lure of peer-attachment and social networking. Can we ask for more than that? To remain a resource and vital influence in our children’s lives into adulthood? In the middle of arguing about snow boots in summer or an aversion to all things green it is a thought worthy of pause. These choices offer a sense of control and an opportunity to find beauty within a task or, even better, what Mihály Csíkszentmihályi (2009) refers to as flow. Flow activity occurs when we are so invested into some undertaking that we lose track of time. Have you ever lost yourself in conversation and failed to notice the day dwindling? Have you ever been so engrossed in a book that you had passed far beyond the time you allotted for it? Have you ever lost your child to the lure of a video game? Imagine the pleasure of sitting with your child in your arms with no awareness of schedules or timetables. That is flow. When we choose to be busy and start to task juggle we sacrifice flow and began to feel the weight of work. We feel fatigue and bitterness toward our lot. When our children attempt task juggling before they are mature enough to handle it their retention and their focus diminish. As you carry on a conversation while cooking a meal or completing a project neither activity can fully absorb you. You begin may begin to feel impatient or harried. A child may say he can pay attention while whispering with a friend but his or her ability to process information just is not up to the task. My son may say that he can complete his math assignment in the same room where his sister is watching a show or playing a game but I promise you that his attention will be pulled again and again. The exertion of splitting his focus leaves nothing done. When he complains that he has been working forever I am then able to choose how his response of dawdling, sighing, and whining will affect my mood. Choose the day you will live. I wonder if so many are dissatisfied with their circumstances because we have surrendered choice for convenience or allowed others’ perceptions to gain power. Our perception of circumstances is our reality. If I perceive my chores as a drudgery then I miss out on the opportunity to find the happiness within the task and those moments of flow (Csíkszentmihályi, 2009). I teach my kids that work is a negative word. Perhaps they then perceive that their chores and school work offer no reward and are a punishment to be endured. Their pride in accomplishment diminishes and their ambition dwindles (Luxenberg, n.d.). The whining begins. If I perceive that I have less and therefore am less then I no longer value what is in front of me. The mandate to work does not exclude the possibility of joy in work. Can you find joy in the work of making a home? A task accomplished? A child fed and cleaned? A hard day’s labor? Victor Frankl (2000) wrote that you find meaning in the struggle for a worthy goal. In the midst of the Holocaust he noted that those with meaning and purpose survived longer. Those who surrendered their power to all that was beyond their control did not. We have little to no control over externals. You choose what you give power over you. If your purpose is wellness then the effort of self-care can offer meaning; the moments of struggle in parenthood can help you meet the goal of raising men and women of character. Choose the life you will pursue. Choose your passions. Perhaps we have become accustomed to ceding our power to avoid the struggle. We run from directed activity to directed activity without feeling satisfied and continue the pattern with our children. Too often exhausted by our work we wonder how to occupy ourselves during our free time and end up passively consuming mass media (Csíkszentmihályi, 2009). Rather than challenging ourselves to create something, risk something, or play something we focus on others’ creations and watch adventures and activities on the television. We risk nothing when we choose not to try. Are we depriving our kids of the opportunity to struggle towards their own goals in our desire to give them every opportunity? Are we depriving ourselves? Maybe we need to take a look at our calendars and decide if there is too little or too much activity to support our mutual growth toward competency and our desire to meet new challenges and goals. After all, that feeling of accomplishment is not one I want to deny them or myself for the ease of passivity. I wonder what my family might make of and for themselves if we unplugged, every now and then, for a whole day. What might our children create in an afternoon outside with no direction? Frankl (2000) and Csíkszentmihályi (2009) both argue that happiness or meaning are not to be pursued but are a byproduct of participation in life. Participation is a choice. What do you choose? Contemplate this as you dance your way through your daily stressors and evaluate your influences. Have a conversation about choice and power. Model respect for others’ choices in your respect for your partners’ and children’s choices. Start tomorrow with this meditation: I choose my mood. I choose my influences. I choose the day I will live. I choose the goals I will pursue. I choose my passions. References Csikszentmihalyi, M. (2009). Flow: the psychology of optimal experience [Kindle DX version]. New York: Harper Perennial Modern Classics. Frankl, V. E. (2000). Man’s search for ultimate meaning. New York, NY: Perseus Publishing. Luxenburg, A. (n.d.) Screen time: Erikson’s stages of development and screen time. Retrieved April 10, 2017 from https://sites.google.com/site/childrenslifeonline/home/screen-time When a Hobby is Neither pleasurable nor confined to leisure time-repost from before "the crash"9/14/2017 In light of my recent determination to express gratitude I was explaining how grateful I am that I am privileged to be an at-home mother and wife with a supportive network around me and the liberty to choose the activities which allow me to cultivate my life as I see fit. Gratitude. Freedom. Choice. Self-direction. What wonderful words. They are values I hope to sew into my children’s heart. They are privileges I hope they, and I, never take for granted.
I am privileged to be a woman who can and does collect hobbies. I loved the thrill of the new skill learned, the focus demanded by studying, taking notes, and planning. I often like the implementation of these grand plans less but that is another conversation. And, truthfully, I love to see the product created appreciated. I am thrilled to see the book I wrote read; the hat I crocheted worn; the party I planned enjoyed and remembered. For the never-recovering nerd in my heart appreciation is the A+ on the term paper of hobbies. I have been reading recently about the idea of homeschooling from rest-not laziness and not without diligence- but from a more peaceful state of mind. The book, Teaching from Rest: A Homeschooler’s Guide to Unshakeable Peace, is by Sarah Mackenzie. I watch my child try to adopt activity after activity because the idea of this new thing and its potential calls to him. It makes me wonder about rest. If the purpose of my homeschooling is to teach him, and later my daughter, how to learn, how to marvel, and how to ask questions then I must critically review his activities and my own example. Am I making a habit, with my hobbies, of not pursuing relaxation and enjoyment? Am I adopting hobbies without consideration of their potential benefit or harm? An informal poll in my house suggest that this may be the case. Oops. While they are grateful that I have stopped rearranging the living room furniture I apparently get a little cranky mid-project. I also overcommit. A hobby is an activity performed for pleasure during times of leisure. It is not something we overcommit to and then regret. It is not something we allow to take away from other obligations, from the people we value, or from our need for peace. The child may enjoy the video game but must still do his or her chores, interact with his or her family and friends in the real world, and still pursue himself or herself in moments of quiet. The mother may enjoy her books but cannot abandon the world for them. I enjoy the texture and color of yarn. I love it for its possibility and for the gifts it may compel me to make. I can spend hours crocheting or knitting and have been known to work late into the night on an exciting project or troubling pattern. A pleasure, yes. Until it is not. Until I become so focused on that troubling pattern that my tension builds, I keep asking for a “few more minutes,” and I snip at those asking for my attention. While I firmly believe it is important for our children to see us pursuing our own passions and identity outside of parenthood in this hyper-focus I lose both pleasure and the luxury of leisure. My body responds to this lack of respect for hobby by triggering what I can only call a searing pain down the back left side of my neck. My tension spot. Do you have one? Once triggered, this spot stays with me for at least a day. It effects my mood, my posture, my movement, and my energy levels. I am tired, stiff, fidgety, and cranky all because I ignored my body’s signs to stop, to rest, to walk away. I rolled my neck or stretched it in order to keep going, keep working, keep doing. When my hobby is neither pleasurable nor confined to leisure time it loses it purpose and becomes another duty. There are enough musts and shoulds without self-imposing more. The pursuit of balance must therefore include a commitment to keep a hobby as it is intended. As a model of self-care I must listen to my body cues. I say this of course as I try in vain to stretch my sore neck and rest my sore muscles. Despite recovering from the slowest healing sprained ankle in recorded history we chose to indulge a family hobby of hiking yesterday. We selected, at random, South River Falls in Shenandoah National Park. Eh, it is probably about 2 miles, we eyeballed. We just had a big breakfast so no need to carry our picnic lunch. We got this! Moderate Difficulty. 1,000 feet elevation change. The novelty of learning how to drink directly from a cold mountain stream. A beautiful, awe-inspiring vista of an 83 foot waterfall. And then the trip back. Oh how that 1.3 miles uphill back tested us! How it tested me as I lugged 20 some-odd pounds of toddler singing loudly, “We gonna have sandwiches! We gonna have sandwiches!” But we did it. I am happy to report that I sang along; that I smiled and laughed even at the end. My husband refrained from blazing ahead and walked with us. The kiddo only collapsed dramatically half a dozen times on the journey back and the little girl let her daddy back carry her for eight minutes and then the last ten! Exhausted heaps upon the grass gleefully ate their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Contented children relaxed on the drive home and later still had the energy for after-dinner yoga and a few minutes with the martial arts bag. We honored our hobby by keeping it pleasurable and within the time bounds of leisure activity. We relaxed and enjoyed ourselves. The sore neck and sore muscles will fade. They are a healthy reminder of healthy activity. The next time I sit down to crochet I will try to remember the joy of that afternoon in the cool air. I will try to model self-care by stopping when I need to stop, and by not putting too much pressure on myself to “get it done.” I will practice yoga after I practice with my yarn. I will encourage self-care by asking my son to consider which hobbies are bringing him joy and which are not. Perhaps, this month I will hang a picture of that waterfall as a gentle reminder. I invite you to ask your questions and place your reminders. Are your hobbies true pleasures confined to leisure or another task? Are you children honoring their need for rest? What image conjures up peace for you and yours? Whoever “they” are always say that life gets busy and the arrogant know it alls are not wrong. I am as guilty as anyone of disappearing for awhile when my batteries have been depleted, when the needs of my household exceed my capabilities to handle any more. I strategically retreat until I can gather my forces to again brave the fray.
There are warning signs that we are reaching that place of reboot. Is it too much to check your email? Is the task of deleting that Promotions section simply one more thing that you cannot physically make yourself do? Maybe you cannot bear another play date or dinner party and so the state of your house morphs until you cannot let anyone in the door without at least two hours notice? Maybe your wardrobe shifts and your laundry reveals a sudden abundance of t-shirts and yoga pants? Is the very thought of getting out of your car to make small talk exhausting? Are you running out of shows to binge watch? WARNING. WARNING. DANGER DEAR PEOPLE. DANGER. Imagine a pot of soup. It is warm and fragrant with possibility. What ingredients do you add? What do you leave out for another dish and another dinner? How full is your bowl? How rich? Are you cooking alone or are you now stirring a vat of soup boiling over with the contributions from your sous chefs or the demands of picky eaters you never intended to feed? Are you filling up on what you think you should be cooking and letting your tastiest pieces go to rot? Soup can handle a great onslaught of ingredients and bear up to a great deal of heat but, ultimately, the size of your bowl is the size of your bowl. You can botch the batch. I am not intended for stillness. I enjoy busyness and bustle and variety. But in the search to taste and try everything we can lose the privilege of savoring. We can overfill our pots and suffer the agonizing pangs that are sure to follow. We are supposed to stop eating before we are full. Should we not stop taking on more tasks before we are exhausted heaps upon the couch? And our children? What are their warning signs and how can we help them reboot? Observe your kid(s). Are they especially grouchy or mopey? Are they zoned out in front of the television or so distracted you have to repeat instructions AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN? Maybe your little guy or girl is anxious and fidgety-pulling at their hair or biting their fingers. Are they demanding you, “Look!” “Come See!” “Help me, I can’t,” when yesterday they could? Maybe they are turning bickering with siblings into an art form. WARNING. I cannot more strongly endorse meditation as a tool for kids. Model it. Talk about how it helps you (because of course you are doing it, right?). Instead of yelling and sending them to their room order them to do five minutes of deep belly breathing or search for a tai chi workout to try together if they need a moving meditation. Instead of doing that next thing or collapsing on the couch try to unplug without an agenda. Don’t ignore your warning signs. Learn what they are. Write them down. Discuss them with your partner so they can be on the lookout too. Stop before sickness or exhaustion forces you. And respect the message to call a retreat when you need one. Traveling with children. Oh joy.
I have good children. I really do. But there are times when I am exhausted by them and the looping conversations of wants, needs, bathroom trips, hunger demands, dawdling time, and whining. Trapped within the confines of a vehicle and separated from our routine this can become a pressure cooker of building tension that may explode before journey’s end. Every pit stop is met with a mad exodus from the vehicle in the pursuit of some different activity, some space beyond our vehicle. I feel the tightness building at the base of my neck, the tension in my jaw, and the pounding between my eyes. I breathe, I swear I do, and I pray for something to break the tension, to relieve the pressure for even a moment. I can take a moment and live within it if only I can find it. We have entered the time of holiday travel which, for us, includes Thanksgiving and Christmas. For Thanksgiving this year we were invited to travel south to sunny skies, the gift of food, and of good company. While my husband traveled expediently and alone I braved a train in the middle of the night with two children, a laptop, and a bag of snacks. Knowing my stress triggers I felt ready to combat them as they arose. They did well. They were smiled upon fondly by the other passengers and entertained by this new mode of travel, the dining car, and the luxury of watching movies on my computer. My daughter sang, "Bingo" and "Farmer in the Dell" so many times I later heard other passengers humming it and then cursing quietly to themselves. My son thoroughly enjoys a new game called, "Where are we going?" In this game you have to determine the location in his mind using only yes or no questions. It is a great way to practice geography-unless the dude tries to create a mythical alternative world and lets you go on for ten minutes with zero hints. Not fair, man. Or he forgets whether his "place" is on land or water. Breathe. My children's energy and enthusiasm are a gift I remind myself. They could be whining. This is good. This is a memory. Our coach recliners did not work very well and we slipped and fell to the floor all night long. The image of three people dog piled on the floor of the train again and again is hilarious in hind sight. I would doze off for a few minutes only to be jolted awake by the sensation of my toddler traveling from lap to legs or the weight of my son as he slid off his chair into my lap of top of the toddler as I mysteriously sat on the floor. With no purchase for my feet I would wiggle and squirm and haul children and self back into our seat only to immediately begin sliding again. Breathe and laugh. Trigger One: TIRED. Solution: After a night of increasingly futile adjustments I pull out my phone with the kindle app. Ah kindle how I love thee. What? A book about guided meditations, another about morning mantras? Perfect. I watch the sunrise with both of my children snuggled with me. How many more times will I have this? Next: Coffee. Lots of coffee. Don't judge. Breakfast was meant to be a brief thing as we were to arrive by lunch time. Suffice to say we did not and our pitiful selections failed to fill us. The temptation of waiting chicken nuggets and hamburgers was the carrot on our stick that only appeased the now cranky children for so long. The toddler began to fuss. Up. Down. Eat. Hungry. Sing. Up. Carrier. No Carrier. Breathe and soothe. Hum a lullaby. The boy-child began to fidget and whine. Can I have a movie? A snack? I'm bored! Are we there?! Trigger Two: Hungry Solution: Sometimes you have to bite the bullet and buy the food. All the careful snacks are gone and real food promises will not get you through the next two hours. I choose my battles and this is not one. Delayed more than an hour after 16 hours on a train while my supposed text alerts failed to come in. I didn't know about the delay until I heard other passengers talking about it. What?! I promised them we were almost there. Trigger Three: frustrated. Solution: Breathe. Chair Yoga. Control what you can. Move the kids to a new location with new interactions, new views, and a bit more space. Let's stretch. Sometimes you just need a bit more room to move, to breathe, and to think. There is only so much time I can spend restricted to a given space and I cannot expect my own kids to behave any differently than myself. I do not always respond well to my triggers. I don't expect to and I don't expect to always respect my children's, my husband's, or my neighbors' triggers. I try to know them and to learn from them. I learned on the return trip from Thanksgiving that all the delays and inconveniences of a train ride are preferable to what became a 17 hour trip in a truck with no room to move and a potty training child who pretends to have to pee only to get out of her car seat. I'll admit that I owed a few apologies by hour ten. As you seek out your own travels this holiday season I would encourage you to take time in your planning to assess your triggers and your family's triggers. Knowing that hunger makes one irritable might inspire some better snack planning. Understanding that one gets restless if confined to long might prompt extended breaks. If you know that being late makes someone crazy send a few text updates. What does it hurt? How can it help? Breathe deeply and travel safely. |
What I writeI believe in the power of intuition. I believe in trusting my own instinct, my own heart, and my tribe. I write about what I have learned to look for and what I hope might help others. Please, feel free to comment at any point about a blog you have read. Genuine discourse furthers our growth. I guess I believe that too :) |