Working With Kids

Explaining the Reasons Behind a Decision

This past weekend, we were visiting with a friend of mine who has a son of Alpha's age.  My friend has one of those huge trampolines in her back yard--with no net around it.  Alpha and her friend jumped on the trampoline frequently during the visit.  At one point, the boy tried to jump off (the bouncy part is about 3 feet off the ground) onto the grass and ended up accidentally landing at the base of his spine instead of his feet--he was not seriously hurt but the pain bothered him the rest of the afternoon.  Alpha was very careful to stay in the middle of the trampoline, and I was watching her nearly all the time, so I wasn't really that worried during the visit.  The kids were discussing having a sleepover in the near future, and the boy's mother commented that they could spend a lot of time on the trampoline if Alpha could stay the entire day after a sleepover.

A couple of days later, I decided to do some research on trampoline injuries.  Turns out that about 75,000 children end up in emergency rooms each year due to trampoline injuries, a significant number with spine or head injuries.  I really try not to be too overprotective with Alpha (for example, I'm fine with her climbing trees, although I've taught her to test branches before putting her weight on them).  But as I read article after article talking about how frequently and easily trampoline injuries happen (and remembering how rambunctious Alpha's friends could be), and considering the disastrous impact of spinal injuries, I decided that I really wasn't comfortable with Alpha being on the trampoline at all unless I was right there to watch for problems and keep things under control.  I knew, however, that saying, "Alpha, you're not allowed to jump on the trampoline when you're visiting your friend by yourself," would immediately result in strong resistance to the idea.  So, I called Alpha from the living room into my office (where my computer is) and said I wanted to talk to her about something.  I told her about the research I had done, and I read her some of the sentences from the articles talking about the injuries that happen and the huge number of kids that get hurt.  I explained what the articles said about how most injuries happen.  I said that it really scared me, especially the risks of spinal injuries (she knows what paralysis is) and that even a broken arm or leg would be really painful and would impact her life for a long time.  Then I asked her if she remembered her friend's injury of that past weekend.  After explaining all that, I said, "I'm really not comfortable with you jumping on the trampoline when I'm not with you--I just think the risks are too high that you'll get hurt." 

Alpha LOVES trampoline jumping.  But after I said that, she simply said, "Okay."  There was no argument.  Because I had given her the details, she understood the risks, she understood that I wasn't being arbitrary, and I'm sure she appreciated that I wasn't completely eliminating her fun--I was just defining parameters (I had to be close by and monitoring things).  A few seconds after she agreed, she said, "What will I say when [my friend] asks why I'm not jumping?"  I told her she could just tell him that I thought it was too dangerous and wanted to be there to prevent injuries; she seemed content with that.  I trust her absolutely to follow the rule--she is very good about living up to what she promises.

And that was it.  No tears, no anger--just two people coming to an agreement.  I wish *all* my interactions with my kids were this easy (although I'm getting better at engaging cooperation from the start--incidentally, a GREAT book about how to engage children is How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk).

Edited to add:  After writing this and discussing it with others, I ended up deciding that it was unrealistic to expect Alpha to be there by herself (say, on a sleepover) and to maintain her promise while everyone else was happily jumping.  I talked to her last night and we came up with concrete rules for when I'm not there at all--she is going to only jump alone (a large number of injuries are due to multiple kids jumping at once) and isn't going to jump off the trampoline when she's done (she'll climb off).  That should greatly minimize her risk, and it should make it much more feasible for her to keep her word under pressure.

Children's Ability to Integrate Into the Adult World

Most people enjoy spending time with children on a limited basis even in "grown-up" settings--especially children who are polite, friendly, and comfortable interacting in society.  And when we give children opportunities to show how mature they can be, they are often able to meet or even exceed our expectations.

Alpha has gone "contra" dancing with her father for the last two Mondays.  There was a live band with beautiful, upbeat music, and someone would "call" the dance steps.  The dancers would follow the instructions, switching partners frequently, swinging their partners, and doing various other patterns.  There were about 70 people in the dance hall area for the evenings, and the youngest person besides Alpha (who is 5) was probably 20 years old.  Alpha was able to do about 80% of the dances--not perfectly, but with enough effort and enthusiasm that the adults around her were able to compensate for her inexperience.  Initially, I was a little worried that the adults would be irritated that they had to occasionally dance with a 5-year-old, but I had numerous people come up to me to comment on her skill as a dancer and how much fun they had dancing with her.  Many people were grinning as they swung her or helped her learn a particular move; it was clear that they enjoyed interacting with her.  Each person at the dance (except her father) probably only actually danced with her for a few minutes over the course of the evening, so it wasn't a serious intrusion on anyone's time.  Alpha had an absolute blast dancing and wants to continue going to the dance indefinitely.

Children are surprisingly good at adapting to the adult world when they're given a chance.  They want to feel proud that they can participate in the "real world," so they often integrate into society far better than we might have guessed they could. 

Letting Kids Find Solutions

It's often tempting as a parent to take over and fix your children's problems for them.  Doing this all the time, though, deprives kids of chances to feel empowered and to learn how to find solutions on their own.

I recently bought a little toy cash register drawer with play money in it for Alpha.  She was careful not to completely rip open the packaging so that she could keep the drawer in it and avoid losing the money.  While we were playing with it yesterday, though, the packaging came completely apart.  This morning, she was distraught over the fact that she could no longer put the drawer securely in the plastic.  My inclination (which I gave in to, unfortunately) was to say, "I'll tape the packaging back together for you."  She wasn't thrilled with the idea; she just wanted the packaging to be magically back the way it was.  Once she accepted that that wasn't going to happen, though, she asked me to retrieve the Scotch tape.  I said, again, "Okay, I'll tape it for you."  She immediately protested and said she would do it.  After we arrived at her school and parked, I showed her the areas she should tape for best results.  Ever the independent child, she showed me where she wanted to tape.  I said, still not having learned my lesson, "That probably won't work--it won't hold in the drawer."

Then my better judgment finally kicked in, and I realized I should just let her learn and figure it out.  I had given her the information I had.  If she chose to take my advice, fine; if not, no one was going to die, so why was I so worried about it?  I said to her, "You do it the way you want to, honey.  If it doesn't work, you can always try a different way.  And if that doesn't work, you can try a different way, right?  That's what experimenting is--you try different things and see what works, and then eventually you'll figure out the best way to do it."  She was quite happy with that--probably because she was sick of my lecturing, but also because she was clearly excited about trying different things and learning on her own.  When I left her at the school, she was eagerly focused on the project, so much so that she didn't even want to wave goodbye as we normally do.  I drove to work happy that she was happy, as well as very curious to see the outcome tonight when I pick her up; I'm certain she will find a great solution.

Children want to become independent and to become functioning adults.  When we let them do things for themselves, it tells them that we trust them and value their ideas, which builds their confidence.  And of course, the more chances we give them to try new things, the more skills they will develop.  We just have to let go of our impulse to "fix it" all the time.

Edited to add:  When she came home from school, she had put a large amount of tape just along the bottom of the container--which is what I had told her wouldn't work.  It worked perfectly.  Nothing like a child to show you how the "obvious" answer isn't always right.

Crib or Parents' Bed: The Baby's Perspective on Sleep

In hundreds of societies around the world (and for nearly all of human history), babies sleep with their parents--to do anything else is unthinkable for these families.  Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (or SIDS--where a baby dies in her sleep with no obvious cause; this is also called "crib death") rates are far lower in these societies than they are here in America, and there is evidence that safely sleeping with your baby can actually provide protection from SIDS (and have many other potential benefits for babies and parents).  But here in America, many in the medical community continue to recommend that babies be put to sleep in cribs.  Millions of American parents have agonized while listening to their baby screaming in her crib, hoping desperately that she'll fall asleep.  New parents are routinely told that, if they let their babies sleep in their bed, they will "never get the baby out again." 

We could obviously debate which works better for individual parents.  Some parents can't imagine sleeping with their baby (probably because cribs are so common here), but others rave about how much more sleep they get by having their baby close by for easy nursing and diaper changes, often without the parent having to wake up fully.  But which option best suits what babies expect from their world?

Since babies can't talk, a lot of parenting of babies is based on instinct.  When a baby smiles, it's automatic for parents to want to smile back.  When a baby cries, a mother's hormones kick into gear, often causing tremendous emotional anguish if she is unable to soothe her child.  Many nursing mothers have noticed that when their baby cries, they can feel their milk let down in anticipation of breastfeeding.  Over the course of human history, our minds and bodies have become programmed to respond so that we know how to give our babies the care they need to thrive.  To a large degree, much of how we respond today is the same as it was when humans were still living in caves or outdoors all the time.  And how babies now perceive their world is very similar to babies of that time--which holds the key to how to raise a happy, healthy baby.

In terms of biological drives, a human baby is very similar to other primate babies.  Most primates keep their babies close to them virtually nonstop until the baby is able to be somewhat self-sufficient.  In the "wild," if a baby animal is left alone for more than a few seconds, there is a substantial risk that the baby will be found and harmed by a predator.  So these animal babies--and human babies--call out or cry when they are on their own to essentially alert their parent to where they are and encourage the parent to pick them up. 

Other primate babies are born able to cling to their mothers, so they are already somewhat self-sufficient at birth.  Due to human anatomy, though, our babies are born far more helpless for far longer, so their need for constant protection is even greater than other primates.  From a human baby's perspective, being alone in a crib is no different from being left alone on the ground, which means immediate physical danger.  So the baby cries to call her parents to her, to ensure that they protect her.  If the parents return, all is well--the baby feels secure and can return to her primary job of growing and learning about her world.  If they don't, the baby generally continues to cry, louder and with more insistence, with a desperation that has evolved over thousands of years of life in a dangerous world. 

Many mothers who have dutifully followed their doctor's advice have discovered that it is almost physically painful to leave their baby to cry in a crib.  A close friend of mine, when she had her first child, was planning to allow her daughter to "cry it out" in her crib.  I was trying not to overwhelm her with advice, so I didn't say much except to let her know that I sleep with my babies.  When I talked to her a few weeks later, she said that they had allowed their baby to cry herself to sleep once, and my friend told me, "I am never doing that ever again."  The agony of listening to her child's screams had convinced her that this parenting style was not for her.  Just as babies cry to let us know they need something, parents' bodies (especially for mothers) often tell us how to respond. 

But, some doctors say, babies in cribs eventually stop crying and fall asleep, so it can't be that traumatic for them.  The problem with this theory is that while a baby will eventually give up trying to call her parents to her, the reason she stops crying is not because she suddenly understands that her parents are just in the other room and there aren't any predators around.  Instead, she has come to the conclusion that she has been abandoned, and so there is no point in calling them anymore (or else she has just screamed in distress for so long that she falls asleep from sheer exhaustion).  Studies (incredibly sad ones) of babies whose cries were repeatedly ignored by their parents show children who have become withdrawn and detached--who respond coldly to their parents or don't respond at all.  This sort of extreme detachment can cause lifelong psychological problems. 

This biological basis for sleeping with babies, along with lots of other fascinating things about baby/parent sleep patterns, is discussed by many researchers, including a compelling analysis in the book Our Babies, Ourselves.  Babies (and older children) are very resilient, so one or two incidents where you can't immediately calm your baby are not likely to turn him into a detached, emotionally unavailable adult.  But responding (or not) to your baby's needs does affect her emotional development, her trust of her parents, and her day-to-day contentment. 

As for the concern about getting the baby "out of your bed," millions of parents around the world cosleep with their children until they are three or four years old and even older.  But if this doesn't work for your family, try looking at the situation this way:  If you plan to make your child sleep alone before they choose to on their own, the process is inevitably going to involve tears and emotional distress.  The question is whether you want your child to experience this distress in infancy, while they are still developing their sense of basic security and trust in the world and in you.

Spoiling Babies?

Many people worry that parents will "spoil" their babies if they immediately respond when the babies cry.  This raises the question:  What do we consider "spoiling"?

For example:  If a three-year-old routinely cries instead of asking nicely because he wants a particular toy, and the parent responds to the crying by buying the toy, yes, that sort of thing may eventually "spoil" the child by rewarding him for anti-social behavior.  But if that same three-year-old came to his mother crying because he had scraped his elbow and was in pain, will it "spoil" him if she picks him up and comforts him?  Or will it teach him that he can trust his mother to be there for him when he needs to feel loved?

A baby's needs are pretty straightforward--food, comfort, physical contact, and love.  They don't cry for "fun" or "exercise" any more than adults cry for exercise.  When they cry, it is their only way of saying that something is not right in their world--that they're uncomfortable, hungry, craving information, or they want someone to hold them so they feel safe and secure. 

If you said to friends, "I really need a hug," how would you feel if no one responded?  Being ignored when we need support can make the strongest of us feel insecure and alone.  If it hurts us as adults when people reject our needs for love, how much worse must the emotional pain and feelings of rejection be for babies who can't even grasp that their mother still exists when she is out of sight? 

All that babies know is the here-and-now, and the only needs they have are basic human ones.  When we meet their needs right away, they learn that they are deserving of love, and they learn that the world is a kind and welcoming place.

Another Busy Day

Another insanely busy day, unfortunately--the lunch hour I normally reserve for blogging was taken up with an unexpected and urgent chore, so, alas, this will be another short post.  The evening primarily consisted of the Alpha-named "running game," which Alpha and Echo invented a few weeks ago.  Since Echo sleeps with me (as does Alpha occasionally when she feels the need to cuddle), my bed consists of a queen-size mattress on the floor, pushed tight against the wall.  The girls stand at one end and take turns running across the mattress to be picked up and spun around and then placed back on the mattress to get ready for their next turn.  Quite fun.  Echo has developed the most contagious laugh I've ever heard; when she starts really giggling over something, I usually end up on the floor because I'm laughing so hard.  I was just pre-Christmas-gifted a digital camera/videocamera, so I can finally start getting her and Alpha's antics on video.  I think I need to find out how YouTube works so I can share their zest for life with others.

I'm 1.5 hours overdue for sleeping, and I'm going to pay for it when Echo wakes up at 6:30 a.m. if I don't head off now, so that's all for today.

Quiet Night at Home

I had a fairly stressful and busy day and am quite tired, so a longer post is going to have to wait until tomorrow.

The girls are both happily asleep after a really nice, fun evening that involved long baths for both girls during which they played elaborate games with various bath containers.  Being with them is great for snapping me out of a funk.  There's also something so magical about being safe and warm and cozy together on cold winter nights.

Off to sleep.

Children are People, Too

Ever had one of those days where it seems like everything you try goes wrong, and by the end of the day you are filled with frustration and feel like giving up on the world for a while? Knowing that you have the support of loved ones, and having someone to whom you can vent your frustration, can work wonders for easing the pain of those kinds of days. But what are non-verbal babies supposed to do when they have those days?

Echo had one of "those" evenings yesterday, and once again I was glad that I'm still nursing her. Nursing seems to be specifically designed for calming babies and small children.

When we entered the door of our apartment and I put Echo down, she immediately picked up her favorite book, My First Word Book, which has hundreds of organized photographs of objects and animals and their names--this was also Alpha's favorite book at this age. She wanted to read, but I had my arms full of various items to be put away from the day, so I had to put those down first. By the time I got back to her, though, she had moved on to a wooden puzzle. I sat on the floor with her and did a few puzzle pieces with her, but then Alpha called me to come look at something she was doing, and when I returned to Echo, she had given up on me. One of her favorite things to do is hold onto the arm of our soft swivel/spinning armchair and make it spin in endless circles. She started doing this and tried to get me to watch her, and I did for a few seconds, but I had other chores I was anxious to get done before the evening got too late. Echo gave up on me yet again and moved to a little doll stroller, which she had to extricate from another toy it was caught in. She successfully did that, but then Alpha decided she wanted to play with it, so during the discussion about toy possession, Echo became frustrated once again.

She started to walk away but ended up tripping over the stroller. That did it. She started crying--but not the 3-seconds-and-it's-over crying that is normal for her. She was extremely distraught and wouldn't even come to me for comfort; instead, she went to a little soft chair in the corner and huddled there and sobbed while I petted her head and tried to convince her to let me pick her up. It was agonizing for me to see her like this, but the petting did help, and her crying starting growing quieter.

Finally, she allowed me to pick her up, and I put her down on the bed and lay next to her to see if she would nurse. She immediately latched on, and just like that, she completely stopped crying and relaxed. I've talked to many nursing mothers who use this solution of nursing older babies to soothe them; the effect is powerful. Echo nursed nonstop for about ten minutes and then fell asleep for the night. She slept longer than usual, so I think she had been utterly exhausted and her frustration with my lack of focus was just too much for her.

This morning, she was her normal exuberant self again. Based on the lessons of last night, though, I think I'm going to make some specific changes to our nightly routine. I understand the need for children to understand that they are not the center of the universe, but they do need to know that their needs for attention and approval are important to their parents. In order for them to develop healthy self-esteem, kids need to believe that they are worthwhile--that they are worth taking care of. Focused attention from parents is key to whether kids develop this belief.

Although I do play with the girls a lot in the evenings, I'm going to make more of a conscious effort to spend the first minutes of the evening--from the second we walk in the door--focused utterly on the girls. I think I need to make it more obvious that they are my primary focus and that they are far more important than, say, putting Alpha's lunchbox away or getting my pumped milk into the freezer. I suspect this will work wonders for both Alpha and Echo's overall moods and for my bond with both of them.

The Power of Touch

It's well documented that physical contact and touch is crucial for healthy physical and mental development of babies.  It can also be a powerful way of connecting with (and helping to calm) older children as well.

I've noticed that Alpha (5 years old) is generally extremely mellow and happy, but when we've had a particularly hectic few days and I haven't been able to really hold and cuddle with her as much, she is much more prone to being irritable or whining or just being argumentative.  After trying various methods of encouraging her to be calm and trying to teach her more appropriate responses to frustration, I realized that in nearly every case, what she really wanted was for me to focus on her and to hold her.  I've been teaching her to ask specifically for a hug when she feels distant from me instead of picking a fight, and she's getting better at that, but we still have our moments where we're at odds. 

This morning it seemed like she argued with everything I asked of her.  On the drive to day care and to school, no matter how I tried to word things, it seemed like I offended her at every turn.  Finally, when we got to school, I asked her if part of the problem might be that she needed me to hold her, and she immediately and emphatically agreed.  I carried her the whole way down the path to her school, and the change in her attitude was astonishing.  When I picked her up, she utterly relaxed in my arms and was perfectly content.  When we got to school, even though I was running late for work by that point, I took a few minutes and just stayed close to her and held her for a few more minutes until she was smiling and happy.  It felt like I was healing her emotions more with every moment that we were touching.

This probably sounds obvious.  Of course it makes sense that holding your kids more would help them feel happier.  But it is fascinating to me how much a child's temper or irritability can be so dramatically affected by something as simple as more physical contact.  Most parents have noticed that when their child is sick or sleeping poorly, just laying a hand on their back or their head can produce immediate relaxation in the child--it seems to transmit calm directly into their brains.  The same can be true for everyday parent-child power struggles.  Maintaining a close physical bond with a child can be a great way to improve their emotional state and their behavior.

The Allure of Cat Treats

Today's topic is cat treats.  Exciting stuff.  Also, finding ways to balance toddler experimentation with what their parents want them to do.

We have one cat--Forsta (pronounced Fur-sta)--who is about twelve years old.  I give him a few Pounce (cat treats) each day along with normal cat food.  Since Echo was tiny, she has been fascinated by Forsta, and for the last few months, she has been really eager to give him his treats.  So I taught her to take two or three and put them on the floor in front of the cat.  This went well the first few times, and then she apparently decided that since Forsta liked them so much, perhaps she should give them a try herself.

Each day she goes to the refrigerator (they're kept on the top) and says emphatically, "DA!" (my kids tend to walk early and talk late) while reaching toward them.  I'll give her a few and tell her to give them to Forsta--and she'll go over to where he's eagerly waiting for them, lean over, and put the treats on the floor.

But sometimes she hoards them.  She gives the cat two treats and keeps the third in her hand.  Then she looks at me like she has no idea what I'm talking about (as I'm saying, "Give them to Forsta, honey,"), gets this little mischievous grin on her face, and kind of sidles out of the room with her prize in her fist.  Then when she's out of sight, she tries to eat the Pounce--though usually I can get to her and get them out of her hand before she gets to her mouth.  I don't think they would really hurt her, but I figure they probably contain some preservatives that aren't all that healthy for people.

I like that she is learning how to treat animals gently and that she likes feeding Forsta so much, so I don't want to take that away from her completely.  But just telling her to give them to Forsta isn't always enough to overcome the allure of trying to taste them. 

So today, when I was trying to get her to give up the last treat, I hit on the idea of explicitly showing her the connection between giving Forsta the Pounce and getting to pet him.  So, instead of just telling her to put the treat on the floor, I got another treat and put it on the floor myself and then pet him while he ate it, while explaining to her what I was doing.  She immediately copied me with all the treats. 

Then, later in the day, she came up with an even better idea on her own:  She held out the Pounce to Forsta in the air, and he took it from her fingers very gently and then rubbed up against her so she could pet him.  She giggled with happiness, so I think we have another winner in the never-ending crusade to redirect a toddler's energy in healthy directions.