Journal bethanie's Journal: [Parenting] Emotional emergencies & Crippling sympathy 16
[Update: Sorry for the double post -- I didn't realize that my original title didn't fit. Attention to details like that tends to lag this late in the day. So sue me.]
Today I took my Daisy Scouts to the Fire Station for our meeting. Actually, I wasn't the one who organized the whole thing -- that was my co-leader, and it was the first time that she had really taken charge of leading anything this year ('bout time -- after today, we have two meetings left for the year!).
So anyway, we were supposed to be learning about "Be Courageous and Strong" and having "Respect for Authority" (two of the 10 tenets of the Girl Scout Law, you see). What we ended up doing was getting a Fire Safety spiel from the [black! -- rare for these parts, but very refreshing to discover] Fire Marshal in town.
Now, I totally believe in preparing kids. I've never used baby talk with them, and I'm really as frank as I can possibly be about all the controversial topics that you think are gonna make you squirm in your seat when they come up: religion, sex, death... No big deal for me.
But this fire safety thing... I dunno. I don't think the girls quite knew what they were in for, first of all. I mean, I knew I thought that we were gonna have a tour of the fire station and learn about being a fire fighter and that sort of thing. What they do and how they're courageous and strong... That sort of thing.
Instead, we were regaled with "Stop, Drop, and Roll" and crawling on the floor to a window or a door. Encouraging these little girls to break windows so they could get out or hang something white out there so the firemen will know someone's in there and practicing yelling, "HELP!! I'M IN HERE!!!" at the top of their lungs so the firefighters will hear them.
One little girl (the oldest in the troop, who will be 7 come June) had already been through this orientation at school. They have a trailer that they bring to the schools, and apparently file all the kids through a dramatically smoke-filled room, alarms a-blarin', and have them belly-crawl through the thing and climb out the window (a 5'+ drop straight down). The little girl who had been through it had been so scared by the experience that she didn't even want to go into the trailer to sit through the initial informational presentation. That seems pretty bad to me.
And then, they were talking about some rules for fire, like never play with the knobs on stoves and never touch matches or cigarette lighters. (This is also where Kiddo piped up and reminded us all never to put metal in the microwave and then leave the house, 'cause it would burn down -- I have NO idea where she gets some of this stuff.) And I have a problem with that 2nd one, because I actually trust my kid (the older one, anyway) to pick up a book of matches or a lighter and just bring it to me. She's not gonna fuck around with it. I'm actually the one who has to push her to try new things (although I do my best not to push *too* hard).
AND if Kiddo's the one who picks up the matches, then I know that Squirt won't be getting ahold of them. 'Cause god forbid that kid ever get ahold of an incendiary device. *She* is what we need to be sending in to the Middle East to root out Osama or whoever it is that we're fighting against now.
Anyway.
So, on the one hand the girls are getting told NEVER EVER EVER to touch matches or a lighter... but that if there's a fire, they're on their own and responsible for crawling out of their beds, along the floor, feeling the door with the back of their hand and if it's hot, to crawl to a window, open it (or break!!! it), and climb out.
Seems to be something of a dichotomy there.
It's no wonder to me, then that EVERY single one of these little girls (four in all) was in or near tears at some point in the afternoon. It's some really emotionally intense stuff, thinking about your house catching on fire. And then, thinking that you might actually have to get *yourself* to safety. I mean, I was 22 years old and living in my first apartment before it really occurred to me how vulnerable I was and accountable for my own safety in case of any kind of emergency. And it was cowing to me THEN!
So that was my experience with the girls at the fire station.
And there's another thing that has been on my mind.
The other week, I went to pick up Kiddo from school one day, and when I walked to the door, she just clung to me and was obviously upset. I can't even remember now what Kiddo's issue was... Oh wait, yes I do. Her hip joint hurt.
Anyway, all the ladies there in the office (the school secretary and some other moms just hanging around) were all in a tizzy, debriefing me the moment that I walked through the door about what she said was wrong with her and all the different attempts they had made to help her feel better...
They were extremely distressed. And looking back on it, it was incredibly selfish of them to feel that what they had to tell me was more important than what my child needed from me at that moment. They were so busy offloading their own concern and guilt in the situation that they seemed to completely overlook the fact that what I *really* needed to be attending to was my hurting little girl.
But I understood this -- none of us wants to be thought unconcerned or unsympathetic (well, I don't really mind it so much, but I'm weird, so nevermind that) -- and so I gave them a few seconds to explain and smiled understandingly and nodded. I just summed up their stories with the simple "active listening" phrase: "It's really distressing when a child is upset and we can't console her."
And then I tuned in to Kiddo.
It turned out, as I said, that her hip joint was hurting. This had come up a couple of weeks earlier, as well, and we had deduced that my leggy little girl (she gets that from her daddy's side of the family, DEFINITELY not from me) was having growing pains. And as I am not one to dole out too much coddling for trivial physical ailments, there was no reason for Kiddo to be falsely exaggerating her pain. I could see from her body language that she was indeed in sincere discomfort.
It hurt her even to walk, so I ended up carrying her out to the car. (It was one of those moments that I am deeply grateful for being build like a little brick shithouse, and just as strong -- it's no mean feat for a 5'1" woman to carry a 45+-pound child a minimum of 40 yards.)
When we got in the car, we began discussing pain relief options that awaited us at home, ranging from ibuprofen or acetominophen to ice or a warm bath... And it turned out that none were necessary. After 5 minutes in the car, the pain had subsided and was forgotten.
But thinking back to that scene in the office with the ladies all astir -- it's so easy to get wrapped up in our own issues, even when we're trying to do our best by a child. We think about what other adults will think of us and the actions we've taken, and what *we* would like done if we were in that situation, and how *we* can possibly solve the problem, and how badly *we* feel when we are helpless to do so...
And none of that really ends up helping the kid.
In fact, I would argue that it makes things worse.
I think that all that hovering and coddling over-emphasizes a kid's victimhood. It makes them feel helpless, and it robs them of their sense of personal responsibility. So that instead of being able to acknowledge the problem ("my hip hurts") and consider what her options are for resolving it ("I can rest" or "I can move it around" or "I can ask for some ice" or "I can ask for some medicine" or "I can grin and bear it until my mom gets here and gives me a hug"), she is bombarded by grown-ups attempting to make themselves feel better by offering solutions that she's too upset and overwhelmed to consider.
Now, I'm not prescribing a treatment for every kid in every situation, but for my own record-keeping, I want to suggest how I would like to see that kind of situation handled in the future. ('Cause hindsight is 20/20, of course, and I have no problem Monday Morning Quarterbacking when it comes to my kids).
Kid has a problem. Grown-up acknowledges problem, gauges how upset child is about this problem, responds with a level of concern that matches the child's (from a passing observation of "Gee, my leg feels weird -- it kinda hurts" to "OW OW OW OW I CAN'T WALK IT HUUUUURTS!!!!"). First thing is to get the child calm enough to communicate. If that's not possible, then just being present with them (not even necessarily holding them -- some kids aren't comfortable with that, particularly if they don't know you well) while they are upset -- but NOT getting upset, yourself -- is about all an adult can do.
If they can communicate, then you restate what you understand the problem to be and give the kid the opportunity to explain it to you better if you didn't get it right. ("Your leg hurts." "No, it's above my leg." "Can you put your hand on where it hurts, or just point?") Then you can offer a couple of basic ideas that might help. And even if you can't think of anything to solve the problem at hand, you can always offer some kind of comfort measure -- a hug, a cup of water, a quiet place to sit...
And then, and THIS is the part that nobody ever seems to get -- YOU LEAVE THEM THE FUCK ALONE. Sure, you can explain that you're not sure what else to do to help them, and if they think of anything, you're available and will do what you can -- but that you're not going to freak out over it anymore. When a kid sees that you're not terribly worried about them, they stop feeling so worried about themselves. They stop doing anything excessive to get more attention (if that was the case). If there was any faking going on, they get bored and quit. And sometimes, they even manage to collect themselves, analyze their situation, and propose their OWN solutions!
Kids even as young as 4 and 5 years old are capable of this. We just aren't accustomed to giving them much of a chance to take care of themselves. We are so convinced of how indispensible we are (and really, they still need us for survival, that's true) that we ensure that we ARE indispensible.
A final tidbit, and then I'm gonna go to bed -- one of my primary goals of parenting is to raise kids who are accountable for themselves and who feel empowered. I want my kids to feel that they are in charge of themselves, and when they have a problem, they have the wherewithal to take care of it themselves (rather than sitting around waiting for someone else to notice the problem and then offer to solve it for them -- THAT is a *total* chick thing to do, BTW!)
I know that this may create some problems in the future -- that empowered adolescents can be real pains in the ass. But I can give you a great example of how it's gonna make my life run a hell of a lot smoother in the meantime.
Tonight we ate supper out on the back deck, as we have been wont to do since it stopped getting down into the 40s at night. Well, it was a little chillier that is has been lately, and Kiddo expressed that she was cold. Hubby and I acknowledged that the temperature was indeed lower than usual, but that's it. So she stated, "I'm gonna go get something to make me warm." Went into the house, grabbed a pillow from the sofa, and brought it out. I said, "No no no -- that is not acceptable. I can't wash that pillow, and you might spill food on it. Find something else." So she brought out a blanket instead, looked at me for an OK of that choice -- and wrapped herself up in it over in her chair. And not a bit of whining or fussing or "I"m coooolllld...." and expecting me to do anything about it.
Of course, I reserved the right to limit her options (like if she'd wanted to build a campfire on the back deck, I would have drawn the line there, too) -- but I was really impressed with her aplomb at taking care of her own needs, not waiting for anyone else to offer or to suggest... And I told her so. I identified the specific behaviors that I value ("You noticed you were cold and you came up with your own creative solution for your problem -- you brought a blanket out here!") and praised her effusively.
It's seldom that such a perfect textbook example presents itself like this, but tonight it did, and it coalesced with the other stuff that was on my mind -- so you get it here in my journal. Whether you like it or not. And you know just what you can do about it, too. :-)
Today I took my Daisy Scouts to the Fire Station for our meeting. Actually, I wasn't the one who organized the whole thing -- that was my co-leader, and it was the first time that she had really taken charge of leading anything this year ('bout time -- after today, we have two meetings left for the year!).
So anyway, we were supposed to be learning about "Be Courageous and Strong" and having "Respect for Authority" (two of the 10 tenets of the Girl Scout Law, you see). What we ended up doing was getting a Fire Safety spiel from the [black! -- rare for these parts, but very refreshing to discover] Fire Marshal in town.
Now, I totally believe in preparing kids. I've never used baby talk with them, and I'm really as frank as I can possibly be about all the controversial topics that you think are gonna make you squirm in your seat when they come up: religion, sex, death... No big deal for me.
But this fire safety thing... I dunno. I don't think the girls quite knew what they were in for, first of all. I mean, I knew I thought that we were gonna have a tour of the fire station and learn about being a fire fighter and that sort of thing. What they do and how they're courageous and strong... That sort of thing.
Instead, we were regaled with "Stop, Drop, and Roll" and crawling on the floor to a window or a door. Encouraging these little girls to break windows so they could get out or hang something white out there so the firemen will know someone's in there and practicing yelling, "HELP!! I'M IN HERE!!!" at the top of their lungs so the firefighters will hear them.
One little girl (the oldest in the troop, who will be 7 come June) had already been through this orientation at school. They have a trailer that they bring to the schools, and apparently file all the kids through a dramatically smoke-filled room, alarms a-blarin', and have them belly-crawl through the thing and climb out the window (a 5'+ drop straight down). The little girl who had been through it had been so scared by the experience that she didn't even want to go into the trailer to sit through the initial informational presentation. That seems pretty bad to me.
And then, they were talking about some rules for fire, like never play with the knobs on stoves and never touch matches or cigarette lighters. (This is also where Kiddo piped up and reminded us all never to put metal in the microwave and then leave the house, 'cause it would burn down -- I have NO idea where she gets some of this stuff.) And I have a problem with that 2nd one, because I actually trust my kid (the older one, anyway) to pick up a book of matches or a lighter and just bring it to me. She's not gonna fuck around with it. I'm actually the one who has to push her to try new things (although I do my best not to push *too* hard).
AND if Kiddo's the one who picks up the matches, then I know that Squirt won't be getting ahold of them. 'Cause god forbid that kid ever get ahold of an incendiary device. *She* is what we need to be sending in to the Middle East to root out Osama or whoever it is that we're fighting against now.
Anyway.
So, on the one hand the girls are getting told NEVER EVER EVER to touch matches or a lighter... but that if there's a fire, they're on their own and responsible for crawling out of their beds, along the floor, feeling the door with the back of their hand and if it's hot, to crawl to a window, open it (or break!!! it), and climb out.
Seems to be something of a dichotomy there.
It's no wonder to me, then that EVERY single one of these little girls (four in all) was in or near tears at some point in the afternoon. It's some really emotionally intense stuff, thinking about your house catching on fire. And then, thinking that you might actually have to get *yourself* to safety. I mean, I was 22 years old and living in my first apartment before it really occurred to me how vulnerable I was and accountable for my own safety in case of any kind of emergency. And it was cowing to me THEN!
So that was my experience with the girls at the fire station.
And there's another thing that has been on my mind.
The other week, I went to pick up Kiddo from school one day, and when I walked to the door, she just clung to me and was obviously upset. I can't even remember now what Kiddo's issue was... Oh wait, yes I do. Her hip joint hurt.
Anyway, all the ladies there in the office (the school secretary and some other moms just hanging around) were all in a tizzy, debriefing me the moment that I walked through the door about what she said was wrong with her and all the different attempts they had made to help her feel better...
They were extremely distressed. And looking back on it, it was incredibly selfish of them to feel that what they had to tell me was more important than what my child needed from me at that moment. They were so busy offloading their own concern and guilt in the situation that they seemed to completely overlook the fact that what I *really* needed to be attending to was my hurting little girl.
But I understood this -- none of us wants to be thought unconcerned or unsympathetic (well, I don't really mind it so much, but I'm weird, so nevermind that) -- and so I gave them a few seconds to explain and smiled understandingly and nodded. I just summed up their stories with the simple "active listening" phrase: "It's really distressing when a child is upset and we can't console her."
And then I tuned in to Kiddo.
It turned out, as I said, that her hip joint was hurting. This had come up a couple of weeks earlier, as well, and we had deduced that my leggy little girl (she gets that from her daddy's side of the family, DEFINITELY not from me) was having growing pains. And as I am not one to dole out too much coddling for trivial physical ailments, there was no reason for Kiddo to be falsely exaggerating her pain. I could see from her body language that she was indeed in sincere discomfort.
It hurt her even to walk, so I ended up carrying her out to the car. (It was one of those moments that I am deeply grateful for being build like a little brick shithouse, and just as strong -- it's no mean feat for a 5'1" woman to carry a 45+-pound child a minimum of 40 yards.)
When we got in the car, we began discussing pain relief options that awaited us at home, ranging from ibuprofen or acetominophen to ice or a warm bath... And it turned out that none were necessary. After 5 minutes in the car, the pain had subsided and was forgotten.
But thinking back to that scene in the office with the ladies all astir -- it's so easy to get wrapped up in our own issues, even when we're trying to do our best by a child. We think about what other adults will think of us and the actions we've taken, and what *we* would like done if we were in that situation, and how *we* can possibly solve the problem, and how badly *we* feel when we are helpless to do so...
And none of that really ends up helping the kid.
In fact, I would argue that it makes things worse.
I think that all that hovering and coddling over-emphasizes a kid's victimhood. It makes them feel helpless, and it robs them of their sense of personal responsibility. So that instead of being able to acknowledge the problem ("my hip hurts") and consider what her options are for resolving it ("I can rest" or "I can move it around" or "I can ask for some ice" or "I can ask for some medicine" or "I can grin and bear it until my mom gets here and gives me a hug"), she is bombarded by grown-ups attempting to make themselves feel better by offering solutions that she's too upset and overwhelmed to consider.
Now, I'm not prescribing a treatment for every kid in every situation, but for my own record-keeping, I want to suggest how I would like to see that kind of situation handled in the future. ('Cause hindsight is 20/20, of course, and I have no problem Monday Morning Quarterbacking when it comes to my kids).
Kid has a problem. Grown-up acknowledges problem, gauges how upset child is about this problem, responds with a level of concern that matches the child's (from a passing observation of "Gee, my leg feels weird -- it kinda hurts" to "OW OW OW OW I CAN'T WALK IT HUUUUURTS!!!!"). First thing is to get the child calm enough to communicate. If that's not possible, then just being present with them (not even necessarily holding them -- some kids aren't comfortable with that, particularly if they don't know you well) while they are upset -- but NOT getting upset, yourself -- is about all an adult can do.
If they can communicate, then you restate what you understand the problem to be and give the kid the opportunity to explain it to you better if you didn't get it right. ("Your leg hurts." "No, it's above my leg." "Can you put your hand on where it hurts, or just point?") Then you can offer a couple of basic ideas that might help. And even if you can't think of anything to solve the problem at hand, you can always offer some kind of comfort measure -- a hug, a cup of water, a quiet place to sit...
And then, and THIS is the part that nobody ever seems to get -- YOU LEAVE THEM THE FUCK ALONE. Sure, you can explain that you're not sure what else to do to help them, and if they think of anything, you're available and will do what you can -- but that you're not going to freak out over it anymore. When a kid sees that you're not terribly worried about them, they stop feeling so worried about themselves. They stop doing anything excessive to get more attention (if that was the case). If there was any faking going on, they get bored and quit. And sometimes, they even manage to collect themselves, analyze their situation, and propose their OWN solutions!
Kids even as young as 4 and 5 years old are capable of this. We just aren't accustomed to giving them much of a chance to take care of themselves. We are so convinced of how indispensible we are (and really, they still need us for survival, that's true) that we ensure that we ARE indispensible.
A final tidbit, and then I'm gonna go to bed -- one of my primary goals of parenting is to raise kids who are accountable for themselves and who feel empowered. I want my kids to feel that they are in charge of themselves, and when they have a problem, they have the wherewithal to take care of it themselves (rather than sitting around waiting for someone else to notice the problem and then offer to solve it for them -- THAT is a *total* chick thing to do, BTW!)
I know that this may create some problems in the future -- that empowered adolescents can be real pains in the ass. But I can give you a great example of how it's gonna make my life run a hell of a lot smoother in the meantime.
Tonight we ate supper out on the back deck, as we have been wont to do since it stopped getting down into the 40s at night. Well, it was a little chillier that is has been lately, and Kiddo expressed that she was cold. Hubby and I acknowledged that the temperature was indeed lower than usual, but that's it. So she stated, "I'm gonna go get something to make me warm." Went into the house, grabbed a pillow from the sofa, and brought it out. I said, "No no no -- that is not acceptable. I can't wash that pillow, and you might spill food on it. Find something else." So she brought out a blanket instead, looked at me for an OK of that choice -- and wrapped herself up in it over in her chair. And not a bit of whining or fussing or "I"m coooolllld...." and expecting me to do anything about it.
Of course, I reserved the right to limit her options (like if she'd wanted to build a campfire on the back deck, I would have drawn the line there, too) -- but I was really impressed with her aplomb at taking care of her own needs, not waiting for anyone else to offer or to suggest... And I told her so. I identified the specific behaviors that I value ("You noticed you were cold and you came up with your own creative solution for your problem -- you brought a blanket out here!") and praised her effusively.
It's seldom that such a perfect textbook example presents itself like this, but tonight it did, and it coalesced with the other stuff that was on my mind -- so you get it here in my journal. Whether you like it or not. And you know just what you can do about it, too.
Don't these people have kids? (Score:2)
BTW, out of curiosity... have you had to deal with a profusely bleeding child or seriously choking child yet? I'm rather proud of my wife for having dealt with those well a number of times.
Re:Don't these people have kids? (Score:2)
As far as the bleeding or choking -- no. Haven't had the pleasure yet.
Of course, last week Squirt nearly brained herself playing in the bathtub (there was about an inch of water in there and I was running around my bedroom & ba
Re:Don't these people have kids? (Score:2)
As soon as I saw the blood I started wailing, probably 3 minutes after the fact
One of the scariest episode I've had with Mercer was when the little fucker figured out that making choking and gagging noises brought him lots of attention. First time he did it I was alone with him and really debated calling an am
Re:Don't these people have kids? (Score:2)
Man, the fake choking has to be no fun. Maybe he'll give it up when he gets a heimlich.
I had a psycho child in a sunday school class I was substitute teaching a few weeks ago choking himself. Ha
"Growing Pains," and "My hip hurts..." (Score:2)
But "growing pains" that appear in the hip joint... That scares me... you might want to have that checked out. I don't remember how much I've written in my journal about my son Caleb. And I have no idea
Re:"Growing Pains," and "My hip hurts..." (Score:2)
But as it stands, I'm gonna assume that everything's normal until it starts being... not.
Re:"Growing Pains," and "My hip hurts..." (Score:2)
Meanwhile, I'll be over here offering my sincere wish that you never need to know about any of this.
Ahh Scouting (Score:2)
A scout is:
Trustworthy,
Loyal,
Helpful,
Friendly,
Courteous,
Kind,
Obediant,
Cheerful,
Thrifty,
Brave,
Clean,
Reverant.
p.s. I type the 12 points of the scout law in without the commas and enco
Yay! Fire safety! (Score:2)
Re:Yay! Fire safety! (Score:1)
Because of that, I don't think I'll ever be able to live in a house where the bedrooms were upstairs. I'm terrified of getting trapped in a house on fire.
Keep up the good work (Score:2)
Support, love and nurture, but don't mollycoddle. Overly sheltered children have no experience at fending for themselves, so they don't know
What kind of parent are you?!? (Score:2)
Man, what are we teaching kids these days?
Re:What kind of parent are you?!? (Score:1)
I wish my kid was at that stage (Score:2)
If Christopher cries, we KNOW something is wrong- but his language isn't well developed enough for us to know what it is. This limits us greatly in diagnostic efforts- and
Re:I wish my kid was at that stage (Score:2)
When I was 5, I was sitting on the floor for "circle time" and a little girl accidentally stepped on my finger and dragged it so it was sticking out at a disturbingly odd angle. It didn't hurt me -- it was just numb. But I went to the teacher and shower my finger to her, and she turned deathly pale and immediately escorted me across the breezeway to the nurse's office.
Through the only experience, I didn't
Re:I wish my kid was at that stage (Score:2)
Actually, oddly enough, no. His problem is a mild case of cerebral palsy, located in the language sections of his brain. He's in Early Intervention (I have a meeting in Hillsboro in a couple of hours for his 3-year-old evaluation to keep him there) in an effort to retrain other parts of his brain to do the same job before he hits school age. I'm the autistic one in the family- and Shannon is Dyslexic- wha