Category Archives: Parenting

This is the stuff about being a family that is not necessarily specific to adoptive families – it’s just the strange and weird world we found ourselves in as a family.

The Crochet Conundrum: Sanity versus Presence

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If you follow me on social media, you will have seen a lot of photos of crochet lately. Have I lost the plot? Am I creating crochet orphans of my children, as my attention is drawn to the magical combination of hook and wool?

What’s with all the crochet?

Crochet Keeps Me Sane

I revived my crochet in the hope of skipping over the snacking-hour that has me dipping into highly calorific nonsense the minute Andy takes the kids to bed. And it is hard to crochet and each cheezy dibbles at the same time (unless you are using orange wool).

But in it, I found much more than just a distraction from biscuits.

  • It is utterly absorbing – my mind gets a rest from all the thoughts and problems such as my mum’s health problems
  • It is relaxing – it is a flow experience that takes over for minutes or hours at a time
  • I create something unique – an original combination of wool, hook and pattern that is practical (in winter at least)
  • It is fast – as someone who is undeniably impatient, I love making something in just a few hours (unlike books which takes years to mature)
  • I am learning new skills. Today I learnt how to start a double-crochet chain and it felt amazing to nail it (even if it’s not going to make my CV)
  • It gives me something productive to do in those few moments where I would be twiddling my thumbs or checking my phone for the umpteenth time

The Hours We Wait

As a parent, the hours of waiting (when I’m purely there in my capacity as a Bouncer) seriously add up

  • At the school gate – as they race off and play with their friends until the door opens
  • At the swimming pool – we are there way too early (soo excited to go swimming, even ten minutes of shivering as we wait cannot dull her giddiness), and it takes ages to pull skin-tight leggings over damp post-swim legs
  • At mealtimes – waiting for them to finally finish the plate or declare that they can’t eat another bite (unless there is pudding)
  • At the playgym or park – when I am there to ward off Stranger Danger, to rescue them (less often nowadays) or ferry them to the toilet

Parenting can often feel like a hundred waits a day – all strung together. Nibbles and Bubbles are at an age now when they don’t want me to play tag with them in the school playground (Mum! No! How embarrassing!), but I have to be there.

Now I get to add a few more rows to a hat or scarf, whilst looking up like a less-nervous meerkat occasionally to revel in their play, in their games, in their swinging or balancing as the sun catches my face.

Sanity Versus Presence

Recently I commented to Sarah Fisher (author of Connective Parenting) that I was concerned that my Parental Presence was suffering as a result of my current crochet fad. Parental Presence is the true gift of your unwavering, undivided, unhurried attention that lets them know that you care, that they matter etc.

Her reply (which inspired this blog) was “Ah the balance of sanity vs presence”

How can I be sure that my crochet (or tweeting, or next hobby) is positive for the whole family, rather than just positive for me?

  • Do I still pay attention to my children? Am I emotionally available to them when they need to be heard, listened to, to talk, to share, to ask for help (or do I tell them to go away as I. Am. Busy?)
  • Do I ensure that I give my children my undivided (hooks down, wool out of sight) attention at both the start and the finish of each day?
  • Do I wait for my children to decide that they do not want my attention/ energy before I pick up my hooks/ phone etc?
  • Do I spend more time (when the kids are around) with them or with my hooks?

I haven’t always got it right (I told Andy that I was busy just last night, counting stitches as it happened). And that last one had me responding with an Oh (followed by ouch) which tells me that recently the balance has been in favour of crochet rather than them.

Yet the truth is, that whether I am ready for them to grow up or not, Nibbles and Bubbles need (and want) me less and less these days.

They are more independent, more self assured, keener to do things on their own. Bubbles loves to spend time at her (new) desk in her bedroom, reading, writing and more. Nibbles loves to play, but often on his own rather than with me. And in that gap, in that new space in our family, I have rediscovered a love of crochet. I just have to make sure that it doesn’t nudge the other fledglings out of the nest, like an oversized cuckoo.

So I am setting out my stall in front of you, my audience, as you are my witness:

I choose both – my kids and crochet, parental presence and sanity.

 

 

 

 

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What To Write In Letterbox Contact

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Letterbox Contact is a regular (in our case annual) letter sent between adopters and birth parents, via the adoption agency.

It’s a letter than may never be read, or may be read and treasured and read until it’s as fragile as a butterfly’s wings.

The first letter I sent was an agonising battle between being too personal (leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to our front door) or being as bland and impersonal as a tabloid horoscope. I didn’t even know how to start (Hello.. Dear Birth Mum, To Whom It May Concern – an experienced recounted in squirming detail in my book).

Now on my Nth letter, I have settled into a bit of a pattern, which I am sharing with you.

Why Do I Write?

  1. We agreed to write as part of our adoption process. It’s part of my duty to my children and to their birth parents.
  2. Our children willingly engage and are involved in the writing, and whilst they want a response, the lack thereof does not create obvious additional trauma. If it did, the choice would not be as easy to make.
  3. It feels like both the most and the least we can do – I imagine how I might feel as a birth parent estranged from her children and how desperate I may be for information. Whilst we do not know if the birth parents receive these letters from the agency, I know they will be kept on file in case the birth parents get in touch later and at least I have done what I was asked to do.
  4. I was and still am a bit of a teacher’s pet when it comes to doing what I am told and doing my homework, so I write it and hand it in on time, like the goody-two-shoes that I am.

Whilst we do not receive responses to our letters from their birth parents, we continue to write every year.  I keep copies of both the letters and any drawings we send in a folder that Nibbles and Bubbles will get to read and keep when they are older.

What NOT To Write

All adoption agencies will provide clear guidance on what NOT to include, but generally it is information that might reveal a specific location, such as:

  • Place Names – I might write that we went to the seaside, but not name the resort, or that we visited a castle, but not which one (even if it is hundreds of miles from our home address)
  • School Information – I write what year they are in, but not the name of the school (nor do I include names of teachers, classes, colour of school uniform, out of school clubs, or anything that could help them track the children to a specific school)
  • Photos – in our agreement, photographs are NOT included in letterbox, for some they are

What To Include

There are five main elements to my annual letterbox that I feel gives a rounded view of the children, whilst accepting that as a few pages of A4 the letter will always fall short of what a birth parent might wish to receive:

  1. Facts and Firsts
  2. Favourites
  3. Experiences
  4. A Specific Story
  5. A Drawing or Handprint

Facts and Firsts

Here I might write about how tall the children are, their shoe size, the school year they are in (or if they are now attending nursery). When younger, it might be the size of their clothes (now in size 18-24 months!!) or other relevant information to give a sense of physical growth. Factual information about their life and their current routine that gives an overview of the child.

In addition, I add their developmental milestones or Firsts. So things like first words, tying a shoelace, learning to spell their own name or to ride a bike, reading a book aloud, baking a cake or similar. These are the notable changes between the years and bring to life the child’s development.

You might want to think beyond things they learn in school such as reading & maths, and include personal skills (brushing their teeth, getting dressed), home skills (baking, washing up, helping with DIY), physical skills (riding a scooter, handstands, running) and hobbies (sewing, painting, Lego, Meccano, making a den, or computer games for online Whizz Kids).

Favourites

I love to include information about the children and their favourite things each year, which change as often as the people they want to invite to next year’s birthday party!  I might talk about Nibbles’ favourite joke, or Bubbles’ favourite book, or their favourite pop music (such as the Spanish song they currently sing incessantly without really knowing the words so it is a weird Burrito-infused earworm), the Floss, TV programmes, movies, food and more. It gives an insight into what the children really love about life, and the birth parents might note their own favourites amongst these things.

Experiences

This is the bulk of the letter – a bit of a “what have we done this year” overview – where holidays, day trips (but never school trips), unusual experiences, birthdays or Christmas get summarised in a few paragraphs. I don’t boast, but aim for a mix of unusual events and regular routines, like going to the library, going for a swim, meeting friends, having sunday lunch with family. It gives them a flavour of what their children have been doing over the year, both ordinary and extraordinary.

A Story

I then go from the generic to the specific – adding a short story that uses direct quotes from the children, to add a level of intimacy to the letter. It’s likely to be a specific incident that has happened recently and I tend to focus on things that made me laugh.

I include quoted lines from the kids, using their words and sentence structure. So years ago, I might have told a story about Nibbles, as I was busy tidying up and he zoomed his toy car under the kitchen table. He turned to me and pointed. As I ignored him, he sidled behind me and gave me a gentle shove on the bottom, saying sternly to me:

“Car Mummy. Get it. You get it Mummy”

His tone had me doubled over in laughter, whilst I commented that I was too big and he had to get it. He responded by patting me again and repeating “You get it.”

I believe (or hope) that having a tiny glimpse into their children’s lives can help them feel connected, even at this physical distance.

A Drawing or Handprint

In our Letterbox agreement, there is no provision for photographs of the children. We sometimes therefore include a drawing that the children their own time drawing – without much guidance, although I tend to discourage them from drawing a picture of their family (as that might be rubbing things in rather). You might also like to include a handprint, footprint, or outline of a hand that is coloured in.

Final Words

As I am writing the letter, I let Nibbles and Bubbles know that it is Letterbox time.

(This year I asked if they knew what letterbox was. Bubbles responded “I know what A letterbox is”!! But quickly clued in when I mentioned writing to their birth parents.)

I ask them if there is anything in particular they would want me to tell their birth parents, and ensure that I include that (if not on the banned list).  Once the letter is written, I let Andy have a read through and see if there is anything he feels needs adding, removing, amending or other. When we both feel that it is a good reflection of the year, I read it out slowly to Nibbles and Bubbles gauging their response.

Finally I ask them “Is there anything else you would like to ask or tell them?” Sometimes they come up with a question or add something specific, sometimes not. We shall see what happens this year, but as they grow older, their involvement in the process, and their editorial influence will continue to develop.

The Good, The Bad and the Ugly

Whilst I strive for honesty in Letterbox, I do shy away from discussing some of the trauma-related behaviours that our children experience.  I haven’t mentioned therapeutic parenting or PACE as I don’t want to cause distress or hint at blame.

I am not even sure whether or not to mention some of the struggles they have had that are perhaps neurotypical – such as Bubbles’ experience of being bullied in school. So forgive me for a slight whitewash to my letterbox, but I feel conflicted about sharing the dark sides of our lives with their birth parents when they receive so little.

Maybe the content isn’t perfect, but I continue to write, to share stories and snapshots into the lives of these children with their birth parents. Because I believe that for now, it is the right thing to do.

 

 

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Ice Ice Baby Please Please Sleep

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The lounge door opens. We pause the TV (just in case). It’s TOO hot Mummy. I sigh. I am rapidly running out of ideas. Bubbles really needs her sleep and last night, the hottest night of the year so far, was a particularly protracted bedtime – instead of lightly snoring at 8pm, she came down to complain umpty-seven times and was still awake nearly an hour later.

Some children might cope quite well with less sleep, but tiredness is a big trigger for emotional dysregulation in our house, so I do everything I can to help them sleep. Here’s some of the things I have and will be trying.

Ice in the Room

Keeping the room as cold as possible helps enormously:

  • Close the curtains during the day to stop sunshine warming the room through the windows
  • Once the sun is no longer shining directly in, open the curtains and the windows to the max
  • Ensure that the air has room to flow – that means leaving their door open (and tiptoeing around at night), but an open window with a closed door doesn’t work
  • Use a fan to circulate air and cool the skin (cue complaint about the noise!). As an added bonus Fi (@wilmawasmycat on twitter) suggested putting bottles of frozen water in front of a fan to provide air conditioning. One to try tonight.

Daytime Ice-child

For daytime cooling off:

  • Hoses, water pistols and even a sprinkler. We don’t have a sprinkler, but Michelle (@Reader5Michelle on twitter) said that it was the best £20 [she] had ever spent for summer fun. So I might have to invest (if I can silence my water saving eco warrier) because it is hilarous and cools us down. I might use the hose in the meantime…
  • Paddling pool – this is the time of year when even straight-from-the-tap paddling pool water is acceptable to my kids. So let them soak, splash and more to keep cool during the daytime.

Nighttime Ice-child

We have a standard bedtime routine with TV and stories that keeps the children’s emotions and energy at an even keel and this is even more important on hot days (for ours, running around outside in the heat and then coming in for bed simply wouldn’t work).

You can also use these tricks to cool them down to help sleep come more easily/ quickly:

  • A cold bath or shower – preferably as close to bedtime as possible, so either move their existing bath or shower nearer to lights-out or add an extra dip just beforehand
  • A cold flannel or sponge – on the forehead, the back of the neck, over the skin for a light wash. Where possible, leave the moisture on their skin as its evaporation will cool the skin. Removing the clammy sensation and making them feel fresh can make a huge difference and give them a window of coolness in which to fall asleep. If they don’t like the feel of a flannel, ice-cold water in a spray that leaves a fine mist might suit them better
  • Ice on the skin – whilst it makes Bubbles giggle and wriggle, often an ice cube rubbed down her spine, over her forehead and on the back of her neck is even better than a flannel
  • An ice-water bottle. Hot water bottles are so, like, winter, don’t you know. But the same bottle filled with cold water (and ice if you have any leftover from your G&T) is something tactile they can keep next to them as they try to sleep. It lasts longer too, so they don’t pop down to tell you how hot they are every ten seconds
  • A cold drink – some sips of cold tap water can cool your child a little
  • A small pieces of ice to suck on – my kids both like to suck or chew on ice, so it’s both a treat and can help them feel they are doing something to fight the heat. It might be a sense of control over the heat that matters most

Ice Their Mind

Much of the problem with a hot night is not the heat. It’s our thoughts and how frustrated we get about them.

Bubbles: It’s too hot

She is not really telling me it’s hot, because I know it is hot, and she’s already told me five times in the last twelve minutes.

As tempting as it is to reply: Just Go. To. Sleep that is about as useful as telling her to calm down. I need to read behind the lines, to the words she isn’t saying, to what she really wants. The least I need to do is respond with empathy:

Me: It must be very frustrating feeling so hot when you want to sleep.

It might be that she wants a specific technique – so I might ask How can I help? And she might admit she wants a cold water bottle.

But these are some useful techniques that apply just as much (if not more) on hot days to help my daughter (particularly) calm down:

  • Calming her thoughts. Our brains cannot hold two conflicting thoughts at once. So if we can replace the I hate the hot weather, it’s too hot thought with something more helpful that will calm us, that will shove the other one out. As we walked to school today, we talked about how it is often our thoughts about a situation, not the situation itself that keeps us awake. Perhaps thoughts like I love the sunshine. This is just warm. I can fall asleep quickly and easily will work? We will be testing these tonight.
  • Calming her breath.  Sitting alongside her for a few minutes and just breathing slowing together in silence can help her to relax a bit.

Today has been another scorcher of a day, and tonight is forecast to be hot. I have bought another cold-water bottle so the kids won’t fight over them, I have some plastic bottles 3/4 full of water in the freezer for my homemade air conditioning and we will be talking through some more positive thoughts before bed.

Wish us luck…

What techniques have you found to be useful in helping your children (and adults) to get to sleep faster on a hot muggy days?

 

 

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TP pie chart for a day

You Are More Therapeutic Than You Think

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You think you’re getting it all wrong. You feel like a failure. You want to be a fabulous therapeutic parent (TP) but you messed up. (Again.) You ask yourself When Will I Get This Right?

You rate yourself as a rubbish parent. 1 star. On a good day. (Blah blah woe is me blah)

But you’re already getting it right, far more than you give yourself credit for.

Look At Me! Look At Me!

Over the ten days of half-term, we experienced some testing days. Perhaps 3 of them. Or in other words, 70% of the time things went okay or better. Oh, I thought. It felt harder than that.

There’s more. The tricky days weren’t entirely awful. There were whole hours of peace, calm, playing, reading, eating, walking within those days that were okay. Even the hard days were good about 70% of the time.

So it would be more accurate to say that half term was ~5% awful, 95% not-bad, good or surprisingly good, occasionally jaw droppingly cute. Yet it didn’t feel like that.

Why not?

Apparently we are hardwired to remember bad times up to three times more than good times. Helpful? Nope. Those not-so-good memories bounce around our minds, jumping up and screaming Look At Me! whilst the lovely ones melt into the past like steam off that cup of tea you made- gah, cold again?

Savouring My TP Genius Moments

I am a TP genius for at least 12 hours a day. (Go Me). Yes, my kids are asleep for those hours, but it doesn’t detract from the fact that I am brilliant then. And there’s more: when my kids are at school (6 h/day) I’m also a TP Goddess.

It’s time that I recognised that for the vast majority of my day, I am kind, patient, wise, generous, quirky, fun and more. Sometimes I am these things when the kids are around.

Pie to Decimal Places (There’s Always Room For Pie)

Being realistic (see pie chart above), I average:

  1. Genius 5% of the time. This is the parenting equivalent of a getting an unexpected pay rise at work, another week of annual leave whilst going to a 4-day week. Rare as something affordable in Smiggle, but wonderful when it happens.
  2. Good/ Great 20% of the time. I am calm, patient, playful, curious etc. Note: this is not assessed by how my children behave but how I behave towards them*
  3. Okay 50% of the time. Not perfect. Mostly calm, maybe a bit flustered. But normal, everyday parenting level of competence. I didn’t nail it, but I didn’t break it either.
  4. UnTP/ Umm 25% of the time. When I will tut and say That could’ve gone better. Let’s look on the bright side – I created a learning experience, a chance to flick to the relevant page in Sarah Naish’s A to Z of TP and get value for money out of my TP Encyclopedia.

*Too many times I’ve judged myself badly because my child was dysregulated or defiant. I cannot control them (believe me, I tried); I can only take credit for how I behave (which is a double edged sword the times they are adorable and cute).

Instead of judging myself against an expert (Dan Hughes) with over 40 years experience, based on some ridiculous idolised version of a Therapeutic Parent, my aim is to be the best version of TP Emma I can be, knowing that I am flawed in lots of quirky and interesting ways that make for better blogs and books.

Give Yourself Credit

Here’s what you can do if you find yourself wallowing in self doubt:

  • Stop aiming for being a living embodiment of Dan Hughes, Kim Golding, Ghandi or whoever you most admire in the world of adoption, therapeutic parenting, NVR etc. You are you. That is enough. No-one gets it right all the time
  • Start recognising how far you have come
  • Start celebrating the big, small and microscopic wins
  • Start focusing on all the times your little cactus flowers

Being a TP is hard enough without you getting all judgemental on yourself too. So give yourself a break. Remember this:

YOU. ARE. AMAZING.

 

 

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A man and a woman fighting over a hoody

Therapeutic Parenting Evaporates In The Heat

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‘Go and get your hoody’ asks Andy in no uncertain terms, for the Nth time (where N is a large number). Nibbles had already refused several times.

Where We Went Wrong #1 – asking more than once

Nibbles heard. Nibbles understood the request. Nibbles is not about to suddenly change his mind however many times we ask him to do it. We’re all ready to go out to a spring fair at a local village and the temperature of our family has started to heat up. Nibbles is cross and stubborn. By asking lots of times and getting the same response, Andy is now … cross and stubborn (snap).

Where We Went Wrong #2 – not focusing on our own emotional regulation/ staying calm

I then join in the unTherapeutic Parenting (unTP) by getting annoyed that Andy is not being very therapeutic.

Ah! Sweet, sweet irony.

Which Basket Is This In?

Having read Sarah Fisher’s book on Connective Parenting, we are trying to focus on the few things that truly matter. Trouble is Andy and I haven’t actually decided which TWO things to concentrate our efforts on, or shared our ideas to be certain we are both focusing on the same things. So whilst we both agree that there are certain things we need to care less about (like the way the kids eat their meals, nose picking, nail biting etc), we are far from a united front.

Where We Went Wrong #3 – not being certain what matters and what doesn’t matter. Is defiance in the small basket or not?

I get fed up with the fact that things are clearly starting to escalate, so go up to Nibbles’ bedroom to get his stupid hoody.  Andy sees it, glares at me, is incensed and throws it back upstairs because he is Not. Backing. Down.

He raises his voice and demands Nibbles get his frogging hoody because whilst it hasn’t worked for N times, it is going to work on the N+1 time. *facepalm*

Stress Accentuates The Senses

When we are in fight, flight, freeze, flop, fandango mode, the adrenalin creates lots of changes in our body, including heightening all our senses – our bodies tingle, our sense of taste and smell are keener and our hearing is more sensitive to every little crackle of the tiger in the forest. An already loud (raised) voice becomes louder still, overwhelmingly so.

‘STOP SHOUTING AT ME’ yells Nibbles, and then promptly bursts into tears.

I roll my eyes and say something to Andy in an exasperated tone about him not being very calm or therapeutic, again not exactly pouring oil on troubled waters.

By now everyone, except Bubbles who is dealing with this rather well, is huffing and sulking and not in a good mood. I dry Nibbles’ eyes, give him his darn hoody (how can an item of clothing cause so much strife?) and shuffle him off into the car before the day is laid waste in a volcanic explosion.

Repair

Once we’re all strapped in our separate seats, with zero eye contact, the danger is over and emotions start to dissipate. I apologise to Andy for talking to him in that manner. He grumpily accepts. I also apologise to Nibbles.

As we drive off, I suggest to Andy that telling Nibbles he wasn’t shouting is arguing aka escalation. He huffily replies that he was just stating a fact and then I suggest that if Nibbles thinks Andy is shouting, then Andy is shouting. Andy is not about to concede and I suggest that splitting hairs on a technicality with a six year old is Missing. The. Point.

Letting It Go

I turn on the radio in the hope that some music will release the static tension in the air. I stare out the window and wonder why we (I) keep getting it wrong.

  • ‘It feels like losing’ says Andy when we are half way to the fair.
  • ‘I know it does, but it’s not’
  • ‘It feels like it’

(repeat the above several times)

And by the time we get to the fair, it’s all over and we have a pretty good day out, with the kids laughing their socks off at a Punch and Judy show, hot dogs in the sunshine, the kids spend pocket money on slime, Bubbles gets some clip-on earrings to her pure delight, and we all come home happy.

Therapeutic Parenting is not like parenting. It involves a whole new mindset, a whole new approach, we have to let go of everything we experienced in our childhoods and try something that at times feels radically different. We both had parents with strict rules and boundaries and loosening those for our children goes against decades of conditioning.

Sometimes being TP is about letting go, letting go of our own need to be in control, letting go of our need for our children to behave a certain way, letting go of predictability, letting go of our own ego. It’s not easy, but the evidence so far is that it is worth it.

Next Time?

At the end of the day, here I am, the kids upstairs on their tablets, looking at how we might handle it differently in the future. Because this is one of Nibbles’ challenges to us at the moment, can we learn to deal (therapeutically) with his oppositional behaviour and defiance?

There is not clear answer to that yet, but here are a few thoughts we had when our brains were calm.

  • 1: HELPING HIM. ‘Let’s do it together’ The simplest, easiest solution. Nibbles hates being on his own, or doing things on his own. If one of us had just offered to go with him, this whole thing could have been over with in seconds. Stubborn? Us? *whistles and looks at the floor*
  • 2: WAITING. We could have decided to do something else (e.g. reading a story book, which both the kids love) until he was calm and ready to fetch the hoody. The fair wasn’t going anywhere, so did it really matter that we left at that precise moment?
  • 3: NATURAL CONSEQUENCES. We could have just got in the car without his hoody. I think our reluctance to follow that through is fear of him being cold (and then unbelievably whiney). The thing is, we had a fleece for him in the car, so he wouldn’t have frozen (and it was a balmy 18 deg C anyway).
  • 4: EMPATHY. We could have used sharp, staccato phrasing at a similar volume to empathise “It’s rubbish. Getting Things. Hoodies. That sucks.”

Ah hindsight. Funny how all these much better solutions arise when you are sat down at a computer not being shouted at. Which is why being CALM is the most important thing of all.

Sarah Naish in her fabulous A-Z of Therapeutic Parenting states that being calm is the biggest challenge of all. It is for us – do you agree?  Please comment below and share your thoughts.

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Escalation – A Game For All To Play

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  • Players – Two: A child who can say “no” and knows how to argue (basic technique is enough, plus a dose of sass or attitude). An adult – works best if the adult is tired, stressed (and/ or poorly), even better if played at the end of one’s tether.
  • Time – a few minutes to an hour depending on the speed of escalation
  • Game is over when – either the parent self-regulates (forfeit of game to child), or when either child or adult bursts into tears and sits on the floor with their head in their hands.

This simple game can transform tiny tasks, such as getting dressed or eating a meal, into the sort of story that your family tells for decades to come, that has the adult hanging their head in shame and may even be immortalised on social media channels such as YouTube.

How to Play

Play is generally initiated by the child, however, the game only truly begins when the adult responds by disagreeing to assert control or dominance.

Example: The adult asks the child to do something simple, e.g. brush their teeth, put clothes on, eat breakfast, stop pulling your hair.  The child responds by emphatically saying “No” or “Won’t”.

In this manner, the child extends an invitation to the adult to play the game of Escalation, should the adult respond in the appropriate manner.

Possible responses from the adult that indicate that the game has begun:

  • Yes/ Will – simple, elegant and yet a sure fire invitation to an argument your child will struggle to resist
  • Oh yes you will (adding “young man” or “young lady” scores 1 for the child as the adult is escalating too quickly, ditto any aggressive stance, hands on hips or finger wagging also scores 1 for the child)

Adult forfeits at this stage if they remain calm, refuse to be drawn into an argument, walks out of the room to calm down or attempts any self-regulatory techniques (breathing, humming, standing still, closing their eyes, listening to a favourite song). If this happens the Escalation Game is Over.

How to Start “Escalation”

The simplest way to start the game is by arguing (oh no, it isn’t). To start, one player disagrees with the other player:

  • They say No, you say Yes.
  • They say Yes, you say No.
  • They say Now, you say Never.
  • They say Will, you say Won’t.

Clearly you might clarify the argument using additional words or descriptors (such as “No I won’t wear a coat even if it’s snowing“, “Yes you bloody well will, it’s freezing out there and you will catch your death of cold“) but overall impact is one of extended, pointless, going nowhere, exhausting argument.

The argument can continue indefinitely in this manner (minutes or hours depending on the mental will and energy of the players) but is demoted to the lesser skilled Game called Contrariness.

Should anyone agree with the other person (“Yes I know that brushing your teeth is unfair/ you did it already today/ is a pain worse than death“) then the Escalation Game is Over.

Now play has commenced with an introductory argument, play move onto Escalation proper.

How to Play Escalation

Escalation involves verbal and physical ramping up of the situation, until both players are in a clear state of emotional dysregulation, shouting loudly and at its worst/ best spouting all sorts of nonsense (see Advanced Play below).

As a player, your aim is to wrestle control of the situation from the other person and have a clear upper hand.  You need to WIN, not just disagree endlessly.

Things you can do to escalate the situation include:

  • Increasing volume – your aim is to go that little bit louder or shoutier than your opponent at every volley. Do not jump to ear-splitting volume too quickly or you will lose 1 point.
  • Physical escalation – for adults this includes finger wagging, towering over your opponent in a threatening manner, hands on hips stance. For children this included stomping of feet, wild shaking of arms, angry bobbing of heads.
  • Hysteria or Melodrama – this involves spitting, head spinning, lying on the ground spinning, lying on the ground stamping arms and legs, rolling of eyes until only the whites show etc.  This is Advanced Escalation and is best reserved for trips to busy supermarkets on Saturday lunchtimes.

Bonus points – players are awarded 1 point if a bystander stops to watch, tut or frown. A further 1 point is earned if passersby swerve to avoid you, cross the road or similar (although you may be too involved in play to notice.)  5 points are earned if someone uses their mobile phone to video the Game or a neighbour knocks on the front door to ask if everything is okay.

Your aim here is to be the person who has the last word. 100 points to the person who does.

As an adult, you must never, ever, accept even the slightest responsibility for your part in escalating this situation. It is ALL. THEIR. FAULT.  If they hadn’t said no or been oppositional or just done what they were told in the first place, NONE of this would have happened.

If either player fails to get louder, or respond in due time, gives up in sheer exhaustion, or sits down in the middle of Sainsburys for a little cry, they forfeit the game.

Advanced Play

If the game does not resolve in normal play (see above) then play may move onto Advanced Play.

Assuming (and it’s pretty much a given here) that being really loud, argumentative and shouty has not resolved the situation such that your child stops, thinks for a moment (with or without stroking their chin) and then responds “You win Mummy/ Dadda. You’re so right. I don’t know why I just didn’t do it in the first place,” then you may end up in Advanced Play.  Even if it’s not on your shopping list.

Here you vainly try to wrestle control back by throwing even more of your parenting weight around (which may be even heftier given all the cake and wine you have been knocking back after days like this).

It’s time to pull out the big guns and start telling them just how you are going to make their life more miserable than this epic row in Asda has already made it. Such that you spout nonsense like: 

  • Wait until I tell your dad/ the vicar/ Nanna/ your teacher/ the dog
  • That’s IT!! You are banned from your favourite TV show/ tablet/ ipad/ hugging your teddy for the rest of today
  • As above, but longer duration such as the rest of the weekend/ month/ year/ your lifetime/ until the end of the world as we know it

Since these threats have absolutely no impact whatsoever on your child, who is currently not really listening to you anyway as their amygdala is in charge (as is yours or you wouldn’t really be punishing yourself by taking away the only sane 30 minutes of each day when your child is on their tablet or watching Scooby Doo), things may well go mental at this point.

If you are still in rant mode, then you may even end up in the Annihilation Phase.  When you say things like you will hang, drawer and quarter their favourite teddy they were given on the day of their birth/ adoption. Or you will smash their favourite toy/ tablet/ tech into a billion pieces using a coconut.  All angry raging nonsense that will only increase your guilt should you not have calmed down in time to avert such a actually-following-through-on-a-ridiculous-threat when you get home.

If you get to this level of escalation, you lose.

In fact, you lost when you started to play this stupid game in the first place. Because

NO-ONE EVER WINS THE GAME OF ESCALATION

Recently I played the game of Escalation in Tescos. I didn’t want to, or mean to, it just sort of happened when I was tired and distracted and just wanted to get home and get something to eat. I was hangry.

I said “We’re going to Tescos” and Nibbles said “No. I am not coming in.”  Which was a bit out of character and instead of sitting in the car, calming down and sorting it out before we stepped inside the shop, I made him come out and he made it perfectly clear how little he wanted to be there.

  • “No, no, no, no, no, no, no” he chanted at me, whilst pulling the trolley here, there and nowhere I wanted it to go (grr).
  • I hissed that he’d better not say “no” again.   But he’s too smart to be caught like that.
  • “Jelly, jelly, jelly, jelly” he taunted instead.
  • I gritted my teeth, I walked slowly, I tried to engage my brain, but I was fuming inside. I put him in the trolley, until he said “goody” when I quickly took him out again.
  • Bubbles stroked my arm to calm me down (and offered me an “emergency hug”). She suggested to Nibbles that he had gone “too far now, please be quiet.”
  • I gradually unravelled in the face of provocation.

Let’s just say that when he threw things at me in the car on the way home, I responded in a way I am not proud of.

It was then that I started to investigate a way of dealing with oppositional behaviour called:

Non Violent Resistance

And I hope to one day write a blog showing how I have effectively used NVR to avoid these escalations that leave me exhausted, guilty and disconnected from my children.

Because I don’t want to play this game anymore.

 

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The Censorship of Don’t

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We’re walking back from school and I ask Bubbles about a forthcoming performance:

  • “And how are you feeling about it, sweetie?” I ask (my tone packed with sing-song curiosity)
  • “Scared” she replies meekly

And I nearly fall into a trap packed with good intentions. The trap of “Don’t”

Don’t

Parenting can feel like a string of Don’ts: Don’t touch the oven, Don’t throw your food, Don’t strangle your sister, Don’t put cornflakes down your pants for heaven’s sake, Don’t, Don’t, Don’t….

Some Don’ts are for safety, some for sanity, but why do I try and steer their emotions as well? I don’t mean to, I do it almost unconsciously:

  1. “What if it goes wrong?” – “It won’t go wrong, you’ve done all that hard work” [Don’t think that]
  2. “But my brother is super annoying” – “No, he’s not, you love him really” [Don’t say that]
  3. “I am rubbish at this” – “That’s not true, look at these correct answers” [Don’t believe that]

Yet in all these well-meant, half-conscious responses, I am stomping all over their feelings, denying their experiences, and not listening deeply enough to be influenced by what they are saying.They are pointing to some poo on the floor and I am pointing vigorously in the other direction instead, saying “Don’t Show Me That“

Sometimes they get so frustrated at me that they tell me in no uncertain words that I am NOT. LISTENING. TO. THEM.

When Bubbles tells me “I am scared“, it tingles on the tip of my tongue: “Don’t be scared.”  But she already is.

Feelings Are Not Right or Wrong

Feelings are neither right nor wrong, they just are.

  • Would we say “don’t be sad” to someone who had just experienced a bereavement? No!
  • Would tell someone “don’t be happy” if they had just fallen in love? As if!

Whether Bubbles is scared, catatonic, doesn’t want to go, wants to go, is delirious, feels like puking, is ambivalent about it, whatever she is feeling is valid. It’s an expression of everything she has experienced in her life. And if I want her to know that she is loved, she is accepted, that she will always be loved whatever, then I need to let her know that whatever she is feeling is A. okay with me.

Be Curious

Instead, I lean in and get curious.

  • “Why are you scared, sweetie?” (more sing-song, no judgement)
  • “Because I am in a group with a boy who always stands in the wrong place”
  • “Oh… What could you do about that then?”

She has tangible and specific reasons that are stoking her fear that we now discuss. We talk about what she might be able to do about it, and I steer clear of giving her ready-made solutions and focus on asking her questions, to help her gain confidence in solving these things for herself.

By being curious, by being open, by letting her take the lead, this conversation gains a depth and a richness that would never have happened if I had fallen down the “Don’t Feel That” trap. We have a conversation that starts with fear, and ends with true connection, several fabulous ideas to solve it that she came up with all by herself, a sense of relief on both our parts, a big grin on her face and a lovely warm hug.

That is what you can create, if you don’t fall into the Censorship of Don’t.

(irony knows no bounds in this post).

 

 

 

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Get Off The Parenting Naughty Step!

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It’s the end of a long day, when finally the battles over teeth cleaning (its just two minutes sweetie), hair brushing (I know its tangly, that’s why we need to brush it), getting into bed (you’re thirsty are you? again?), and back into bed (just take off your top if you are hot), and settling down to sleep (yes, I have left the light on in the bathroom, yes your teddies are all lined up in order, yes I have put the cat out) are over and you can settle down, put your feet up, drink you first hot cup of tea (what is it now honey?) that doesn’t go cold, and finish your “To Do” list by reflecting on the day.

Despite all the successes, the getting them dressed and to school/ nursery on time, the not-losing-it in Asda, the mostly empty plates, the mostly happy times, our mind is drawn, like a fly to one of those buzzing blue lights, to an incident. Something that didn’t go exactly to plan and it comes to blight our peace and remind us that we got it wrong.

And we put ourselves firmly on the Parenting Naughty Step.

STOP IT

It is all too easy to find ourselves lacking as parents. Because I guess that you, like me, like every other parent, is not the therapeutic parenting (TP) twin to Dan Hughes and Bruce Perry.

You might have read their books, absorbed the theory and then been a little disappointed that every so often you still f*ck it up. You lose the plot, your buttons get pressed, you are too tired and you focus on correction not connection, or get agitated not animated, or use the F word with them (and it wasn’t “Freddie”).

Welcome to my morning (without the F word). I slept okay and yet something triggered a grump. My kids, having seen the PACE poster drawn large on our wall, and overheard Andy and I encouraging each other, became a new, PACE-informed conscience in my life today

“Remember Mummy” Nibbles said in a patronising tone that is disturbingly similar to my own “Play-fulness”

#Busted

So after drop off, I walked and put myself on a virtual naughty step.

But it’s not just me who does this. Yesterday one of my twitter friends admitted that she was spending “precious me time in a cafe thinking about all the bad parenting choices I’ve made in the last 24hrs.” We tweeted and I think I cheered her up.

You are not alone in the self recrimination. But it’s not useful if it only makes us feel bad.  So let’s get off that darn step and change the script.

PLAYFULNESS

This is my favourite approach.

You get to play the “How could this be even WORSE?” game.  

Don’t let a tiny slip grab too much limelight. Make it seem like a bit-part, a walk-on extra in a more extravagant melodrama (think screaming match outside the Queen Vic). How? Create in your mind, a much more cringe-worthy situation. Play with the ideas and images, until they become ridiculous, silly, exaggerated, a game of bad parenting one-up-parentship

“You shouted at him? That’s nothing, I shouted so loudly that I knocked a picture off the wall next door, and my neighbour was on the radio for a phone-in about noisy neighbours, and the recording – you can hear me screaming like a banshee – is all over social media and I am so embarrassed and that’s just the start, 5 milliseconds later my mother-in-law rang me up to tell me what a terrible mother I am, then unfriended me on Facebook and I received a telegram uninviting me to the Royal Wedding, and and and we have run out of milk so I can’t even drown my sorrows in a cuppa. And the washing machine is on the blink. And the batteries have run out in the TV remote/ my vibrator.”

Think of the Four Yorkshiremen Sketch.

Or cheer yourself up watching some of the much more viral parenting fails on YouTube – search terms like “why you shouldn’t leave your kids with Sudocream” or “kids and sharpies” and smile that the indelible tattoos, whilst wiping your forehead and thinking “there by the grace of God..”

Now you are feeling a bit lighter about it, try a little..

ACCEPTANCE

Forgive yourself.

You are human after all (soundtrack: Only Human by Rag’n’Bone Man).  We all mess up sometimes. Unless you are Donald Trump, when you not only mess up every day, but tweet loudly to millions of people about it too (more playfulness, I hope you noticed).

It is totally normal to lose your cool, to sometimes tell your children what to do instead of asking them, or solve their problem instead of helping them work it out for themselves, to shout at them to “calm down” even though that phrase has never worked, not even once.

It is okay to be tired, to have run out of TP juice, to feel wrung out and run down, or to be firing on all cylinders and still fall into patterns of parenting that we experienced for years from our own parents, who were still doing the best they could given the circumstances.

You are not WonderMum or WonderDad. You are YOU.  Perfect in your imperfection. Fallible, human and you are doing AMAZING.

Get real. Yes you messed up, but let’s also accept how fab you are. List at least 3 ways in which you did a good or great or genius parenting job today. Because the chances are, over the day you were a good or great parent 95% of the time, and yet what are you focusing on? The 5%.  Yet if your child scored 95% on a test, I bet you would be over the moon.

Not enough? Move onto stage 3:

CURIOSITY

So the sh*t hit the fan today. And you fell off your parenting throne.

WHY?

Let’s get curious, put on our Holmesian deerstalkers and explore what exactly happened:

  • What was happening just before you lost it? Were you tired/ frustrated/ trying to do too many things at once? Be honest.
  • What triggered the incident? What specific word, action, inaction? Be precise.
  • Why did that push your buttons? What belief or identity did that situation challenge in your mind? What rules have you given yourself or your children that were broken? What inflexibility is tripping you up?
  • What did you want to happen instead? What would need to have been different for that to happen today instead of what did? Re-run the scene as-if you had been brilliant and see how differently you feel and how you might increase the chances of that outcome next time.

Look for how this moment in time is a gift. An opportunity to rewire something in your brain, to address something in your past. What can you learn about how you do things, or what you think about being a parent that you might want to change?

You may want to do this with your bestie or partner, so that they ask you questions to explore what happened and why it mattered and why you are beating yourself up.  In every situation we can learn something about ourselves (even if we chose not to).

EMPATHY

The final technique is to talk to yourself with empathy. Be your own bestie. Give yourself a break and be kind to yourself. Gentle. Forgiving.

“I can understand how upset you are, you want to be the best parent in every situation and you feel like you failed today / let your child down/ weren’t the parent you wanted to be.”

  • Instead of trying to distract yourself from how you are feeling (with wine, chocolates, TV, exercise), lean in. Go deep. Find what lies beneath in YOU.
  • Breathe. Long and slow. And again. Long and slow.
  • Close your eyes. Relax. Let go.
  • Feel with every fibre of your being.  Focus on the feeling, because you might find that underneath your initial feeling is something enlightening.

I was upset a few months ago and @mumdrah gave me permission to be sad, to feel it all, to be with that feeling instead of running away from it.  And under my sadness at an escalation, I realised I was truly scared about Bubbles’ future. My heart was breaking, worrying that if we didn’t manage to solve it, or improve things, that there would be bleakness ahead. 

That changed things for me.  It made me step up in a new way. Those tears were a gift.

There Is No Magic Bullet

When we are tired, exhausted, when something has broken, when we run short of energy, funds, fun; it is all too easy to blame ourselves for situations that escalate, that don’t go to plan.

But perhaps we should see those situations as GREAT. Because in each of those failures is the seed for our success.  As Edison might once said (it’s hard to be sure, since I wasn’t there)

You didn’t fail. You just found a way to not-parent.

  1. Be playful.
  2. Be accepting
  3. Be curious
  4. Be empathic

Forgive yourself. You are only human.

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Poster With P.A.C.E. principles in visual format

P.A.C.E. Yourself

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P.A.C.E is an acronym that represents an approach to therapeutic parenting, as devised by Dan Hughes and it came to my attention as I searched for a way to help Bubbles.  I first dabbled in empathy (see my post Putting Out Fire With Fire).

That led me to read Dan’s book “Attachment Focused Parenting” which opened my eyes to a whole new approach and style of therapeutic parenting.

Bringing Andy Along

The poster started as a way to summarise the ideas from the book and various websites that I had visited. Then it grew from a rough sketch into something more.

And in its creation, I cemented what I knew (which wasn’t much) and added to it, because there is nothing like teaching (in poster form) to test your understanding of an acronym. As I explored P.A.C.E, and as our family struggled with the traditional approach to parenting, the ideas burrowed beneath my skin.

P.A.C.E. expresses four ideas (underscored with LOVE) that Dan (God in the eyes of many struggling adopters) Hughes has discovered over decades of working with families:

  1. Playfulness – being spontaneous, in the moment, using a sing-song storyvoice, learning to live and play in their worlds to defuse tension
  2. Acceptance – telling my children through words and importantly tone that I love and accept them, if not their behaviour, however angry or frustrated or annoyed or hyper they get.
  3. Curiosity – avoiding judgement and being open to discovering what they are feeling and why they feel that way, and being prepared to be influenced by what we hear. We step into their world for a moment, and dive deep to discover their truth.
  4. Empathy – by matching their intensity, tone and pace, by opening our hearts to reflect their feelings, we assure them that we are listening and that we are doing our best to understand. We look to understand them.

Work in Progress

It is a few years since we first encountered P.A.C.E and whilst we try our best, there are times when my tone is less than playful, when I am too exhausted to step into their world, when I am all out of empathy.

But having a reminder (the P.A.C.E. poster) on the kitchen  wall, helps to remind us of how we can parent on a good day.

Admitttedly, the other day, my daughter caught my frustrated tone and came out with this verbal reminder:

‘PLAYFUL, Mummy. Remember the P in P.A.C.E…’

The poster can be downloaded to print in A4 for personal use – for a small donation. Larger sizes for schools and for distribution can be purchased to embed therapeutic approaches – just get in touch

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Sobbing is Self Care

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I grab my coat and move with my back to the rest of the diners, unwilling to draw attention to my movement as I leave the restaurant. I walk into the adjacent garden centre, down the path, past the perennials and shrubs, away from onlookers or the hardier plant-browsers.

I reach the end of the path, towards a cold blue sky, lush green rolling hills, a wintry landscape that is beautiful and Not. Enough.

With two hands, I raise my fur-trimmed hood over my head, burying my face in its cosy warmth. Hiding from the world, from the distress within. Trying to lose myself in a hug from my hood. I feel like a kid lost in the playground, hiding from the bullies, fists over my mouth, scared, alone.

I crumple my face, willing myself to hold it together, but this landscape gives me space, gives me permission to be real, honest, true and tears well up in my eyes and they pour down my face in blotchy welts as my mouth screws up in a ugly crying.

I sob, my shoulders heave, I am crying not quite in public.

Too tired to hold them back anymore…

No One Thing

If you asked me why I was crying, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. Not in so many words. There was no single thing that tipped me over. No angry, annoyed or frustrated outburst, no stubborn refusal, nothing deliberate or unkind that I could finger as the tipping point.

Somehow this Sunday, this final day of half-term slid away from me this morning, and my mental plan to go for a long stomp in the glorious sunshine got lost in getting dressed and doing things (I can’t tell you what, I don’t even know) and before I knew it, it was 11am and too late to go out before lunch. So I was already fuming a little as we drove here. Angry that I had been up since 7am and had done nothing.

Not nothing – you know how it is – but nothing to fill my bucket.

When we got here, already a little tense, the children whined a little, wriggled a little. Bubbles didn’t like the books the restaurant had to read – and we (or she) hadn’t bought anything else. She complained about the chicken, then the broccoli. He complained that the roast potato wasn’t crispy. I ate my salmon salad. They ate most of it and didn’t spill their drink.

Yet somehow, something or things chipped away at my happiness bucket until it was empty. Achingly, desperately, hollowly empty.

I had bitten my bottom lip half way through, as they continued to poke their food. I had turned away, tried to distance myself, tried to breathe, to focus on the view, staring at it, hoping the hills would drip cheer into my bucket. Hoping that my obvious unhappiness would change the state of play, or at least just get through it intact.

But it wasn’t to be… And when it all became too much, I slid out of there to cry out sight.

Are You Okay Mummy?

Some minutes later, I hear the patter of their feet, running down the path, growing louder, coming in my direction. My tears are not yet done, but the urgent tidal wave of distress has ebbed a little.

  • “Are you okay Mummy?” asks Bubbles curiously
  • “Not really” I answer truthfully
  • “Oh” she says, disappointed, unclear what to do next
  • “Let’s go play” she suggests to Nibbles

My shoulders sag a little lower.

There’s A Hole In My Bucket

If my happiness is a bucket of water, there are things that fill the bucket and things that drain it. And its clear to me that I haven’t been filling it fast enough to cope with the holes that riddle the metal and leak drips and streams from it.

Andy comes and gives me a hug and somehow his kindness touches my soul and more tears come out and I sob that I just wanted a nice meal out and why can’t we just enjoy a meal out when I don’t and. and. and have to cook and. and. and the kids play and are kind and. and. and… when did life become so hard?

He doesn’t answer, because there are no answers. Because sometimes all I need is to know that he is here and he cares.

We go for a walk, where I am the sullen reluctant one. Nibbles holds my hand and that slight touch, that connection helps me remember that sometimes my bucket is full and overflowing, even if now is clearly NOT one of those times.

  • “Is your bucket is full yet?” asks Nibbles
  • I laugh, a little cynically. “About a quarter” I say, more graciously, knowing it is nearer 10%

Do What Needs To Be Done

There’s a parenting mantra about doing what needs to be done – to feed your kids, change their nappies, get sleep, to get through the day. But we need to ensure that on that list is the things we need to do for US.  To fill our buckets. To notice when they are dangerously low.

And if they become empty, to deal with that feeling too.

Sometimes sobbing is the best self-care.

A chance to express how hard parenting can be, a chance to be honest about how strong you are in this moment now, a chance to let go of the pain and let it out.

Because being strong, pretending to have your sh*t together all the time, that’s what can break you.

So go on, have a sob on me.

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