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From the backseat of the car, my daughter asked me to tell her a story. Since we were on the way to her annual well child exam, I wondered if she was seeking a virtual role play in which the heroine of my story would be on her way to the doctor, too. So, sure enough, Kittenpants (the heroine of most of our stories lately, name chosen by my child) was, indeed, about to get her checkup and had some doctor anxiety. As I continued, my child kept asking for more detail. My hunch had been correct. She very much wanted to know what she was about to get into, but safely first, through a story.

Even for me, as an adult, I have some doctor anxiety. However, I actually like going to the dentist. My theory is that, with a young child, relaxing in the dental chair is about the longest I ever have to "do nothing". I digress; I know doctors and dentists, alike, cause anxiety for a lot of humans, especially the young ones who have fewer years of experience with them. If your kiddo lacks enthusiasm when it's doctor or dentist time, what's a gentle parent to do? We all have to go to these appointments sometimes, right? Some of these ideas might help you and your child:

1. Go to the doctor and dentist—yours, that is.

And take him along to observe. Rather than having someone care for your child while you're at your appointments, let him see you undergo many of the same processes he'll encounter when it's his turn. There's a lot to be said for desensitization to reduce dentist and doctor anxiety; the more you expose him to a situation, the less foreign, and less scary, it might be (particularly when there's no threat to him). Did I take my daughter into surgery with me last summer? Heck no, of course not. But she comes with me to every physical, every sick visit, and every routine maintenance activity I schedule. The more she can get comfortable with the concept of doctors in general, the easier it is when it's her turn. A couple of doctors have even offered to have her "help" with my checkups, to which she gladly agrees (only in kid-safe ways, such as using the stethoscope). Talk about removing the fear factor! To the extent that you can, eliminate your child's fear of the unknown. Before her appointment, let her know what to expect there. Recall what she's seen, and talk her through what she hasn't.

2. Find the right provider for your child.

Look for a doctor or dentist who your kid seems to like and who shows respect for her, even during "non-negotiable" parts of the visit. Even very young kids have strong feelings about who they like and don't. To the extent possible, follow their lead. If your child has an ear infection but won't let Dr. Amazing look in her ears, see if said doctor will perform the exam while your child is in the safety of your arms. This can substantially reduce your child's doctor anxiety. If that's not feasible, stand next to her exam table while you touch her reassuringly. If your doctor's approach is "my way or the highway," it might not be the best fit. I don't know about you, but if a person 4x my size approached me in a way that made me feel uncomfortable and my caretaker let him, I'd have a problem with that. The procedure might need to happen, but the provider's approach and demeanor should be a peaceful and collaborative one. There are plenty of fish in the proverbial sea, and that applies to medical professionals, too. Find the best match for each of your children. This isn't your doctor; it's theirs.

3. Validate your child's feelings.

Recently, a 9-year-old boy I know named Théo went to the dentist and needed a filling. He was scared of the novocaine shot. After working past it and successfully getting his cavity filled, the dentist chided him and asked if it was worth him having been afraid. Théo maturely responded, "I couldn't have been brave without first having been scared. Courage without fear is merely indifference." Wow, I couldn't love his response more if it were baked in a cake! It's absolutely okay to be scared; it's a biologically normal and healthy response to many situations. Fear serves a purpose in keeping us safe. Does that mean you should say to your child, "Yes, you should be nervous! It's so scary at the dentist!" No, absolutely not. What it does mean, however, is that your child needs to know you hear him without judgment, and without your trying to talk him out of his feelings. Try this: "I understand. I hear that you're nervous. I'll be there to support you." Feeling understood can help relieve anxiety*.

4. Let your child develop her own thoughts about the appointment.

Pay attention to the messages that you inadvertently send about your doctor and dental visits. If all your child ever hears you say is how much you hate going, he'll internalize your doctor anxiety and save those feelings for when it's his turn. Moreover, let your child decide how he feels about each part of the visit. The first time my child saw me give blood, she saw me look away (I can't watch), but she got as close to my blood-giving arm as the phlebotomist would let her. She was fascinated. The next time she saw a needle, she stared right at it as her doctor gave her a shot. She didn't cry. (Whaaaat? Whose child is this?) I was shocked, but relieved that I hadn't projected my own needle-anxiety upon her. After the fact, she told me that it had hurt a bit, but my worries about how she'd handle it far exceeded the stress of the actual event.

5. Play doctor. Dr. Hilarious, that is.

If laughter is the best medicine and your child is still young enough, role play it out in the silliest ways you know how, while staying "true-ish" to real doctor-like scenarios. Her truck needs its blood pressure checked; her toy tomato has a fever. When my daughter was three, she kept coming to me to cure her "chronic case of the 3s," during which she responded to every question and every part of my "medical" exam by yelling "THREE!" She thought it was hilarious, even when she was getting pretend shots that somehow made her "condition" worse.

6. Educate neutrally.

"Just the facts, ma'am." For the record, I'd rather get a shot in the nose than be called "ma'am," but the expression, like it or not, is a memorable reminder that it is what it is: a doctor visit. In the case of things like shots or other "painful" events, explain what will happen, but in neutral, textbook-like terms. You're the provider of information; your child gets to process and judge the information in whatever ways work best for him. Before shots, I remind my child that "Sometimes they hurt temporarily, but then they feel better very soon. Sometimes, they don't hurt at all. Either way, I'll be with you for the entire visit." Neutral. Confident. Peaceful. For little or big kids, but especially if your child is older, read age-appropriate books about doctors or types of medical things that interest them. Pick up a book (or watch a non-scary video) about some aspect of medicine that might interest her. Learn about it, and perhaps come up with a question of interest to save for the "real" doctor or dentist. Empower your child with age-appropriate information. Tell her you're going to the appointment with enough time to prepare for it mentally. No surprises.

7. Talk about life after the appointment.

From an anxiety perspective, we can all get caught up in the fear of the upcoming visit. Remind your child, by having a specific after-the-visit plan, that life goes on, on the other side of the appointment. Have an “after” idea that’s not conditional or a bribe. Instead of, "If you do well at the doctor, we can go to the park," try, "I have an idea--after the doctor visit today, let's plan to go to the park. It's fun to have something to look forward to later in the day." Having something good to anticipate can help ground your child (and you, too). Most of all, let your child take refuge in the emotional safety that you can provide, before the appointment, during it, and after she survives it. Assure her that you're right there with her, and will continue to be, just as you always are. * Source: The Center for Stress and Anxiety Management, http://csamsandiego.com/blog/2016/5/26/how-to-listen-when-someone-you-love-is-struggling

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After finishing a two-week, multi-age summer class with Teacher Tom, who's an internationally respected teacher and writer, I asked my child what she thought he was really good at. She pondered my question for a moment and thoughtfully replied, "He's really good at sitting." 

Well, shoot. At the risk of bragging, I'm a fine sitter, myself. Now that I know it's Teacher Tom's greatest strength (in her mind), I feel compelled to up my sitting game. Would any of you be up for a sitting challenge, or perhaps agree to be my sitting accountability partner? 

The thing is, she's right, but in the most complimentary of ways. Case in point: Jimmy, about whom I’ve written before. His name isn't Jimmy, but I'm saying it is to protect his privacy. He's two. 

Teacher Tom showed a broken tricycle to Jimmy and a bunch of other kids. Its seat had long since gone missing, leaving nothing but a flat metal bar in its place. The bike had bigger problems, though. The wheels, although still present on the playground, were no longer attached to it. As quickly as you read about the wheels, however, is how quickly another boy absconded with the back ones, using them to drive some invisible vehicle down a long and reasonably steep dirt hill toward parts unknown. By then, some of the children had lost interest in the few pieces of the bike that remained. Jimmy, however, held firm to the one remaining and detached front wheel, and Teacher Tom had an idea. 

Despite usually letting kids figure out what loose parts represent, Teacher Tom said, "This is a steering wheel. One of you can use it to drive this wagon." He pointed to a trusty (and rather rusty) metal wagon that he, himself, used as a child. One of the older boys quickly accepted the challenge, but as soon as it started moving downhill, his expression turned to worry and he quickly abandoned the ride. He took the "steering wheel" with him to play elsewhere. 

Jimmy, who was by far the youngest and smallest in the class, wasn't giving up on Teacher Tom's plan so easily. Confidently, he walked up to the wagon and said, "I try." It took him a bit of effort to climb in, but he made it. And then, like he did on the tire swing I wrote about in a previous article, he said, "Push." 

The wagon wasn't moving on its own, despite pointing downward on the dirt hill. Teacher Tom replied in a respectful tone, "I'm not your Mom. Moms help people. I'm your teacher; teachers will teach you."

Lest I take offense to his comment (hey, I help and teach, don’t I?), his words resonated with Jimmy, and Jimmy started to thrust his body forward, engaging the wheels of the wagon. Holding the steering handle but not turning it, he drove straight into the backpacks that were hanging on the outdoor hooks. Not far. Soft landing.

Teacher Tom straightened the path of Jimmy's wagon and provided him with a brief tutorial about steering. Now, here I am, an adult who knows a thing or two about physics, and a thing or two about two-year-olds. My confidence wasn't great that Jimmy wouldn't end up in a pile of wood chips, or perhaps crash into a gaggle of other little humans. He didn't have a license to drive that thing.

But lo and behold, Jimmy steered correctly, and dang if he didn't make it all the way down the hill without using small bodies as speed bumps or taking out the garden along his way. He drove it...well. Yes, he drove it very well.     

Then, looking pleased as a pumpkin, he got out easily and moved on. 

So, yeah, Teacher Tom is good at sitting. My daughter is right. But she went on to clarify: "He's good at sitting and waiting to see if kids can figure things out. But if they need him, he helps them." 

As parents, our job is to "sit" in a way that allows children to have the time to think critically, to solve problems on their own whenever possible, and to help them finish each day trusting themselves a bit more than they did the day before. They accomplish most of this, of course, through their critical work of play. That's the kind of sitting I want to do. 

Ice cream for breakfast; impromptu gifts; cookies for lunch; no responsibilities ever; cake for dinner...oops...hold on...that's my wish list, and I'm supposed to be writing about kids.

A lot of people think positive parenting means giving children everything they ask for (i.e., permissive parenting). If I had a nickel for every time I've heard that, I'd be able to buy a crazy-ton of ice cream. That said, and as my child will readily tell you, there are plenty of limits in our house. And sadly, we don't have ice cream for breakfast every day.

Many years ago, I took an executive negotiation class that completely changed my perspective on "no." It's been one of the best parenting tools I've learned.

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As odd as it sounds, the most successful "no" often sounds surprisingly positive. Encouraging, even.

Who’d have thought executive negotiation tactics would double as positive parenting tools? Before anyone worries that I'm suggesting children should negotiate everything with their parents, I'm not. I strongly believe, however, that the words we use with our children become their inner dialogue as they grow. As a result, I  suggest is open respectful dialogue with our kids regardless of their ages.

Our messages and tone stick with them. I see evidence of that in my own child in the ways she matures and processes various situations. The world will give her plenty of no's (heck, it already does), so I choose to teach her optimism and hope as tools for resiliency. And more than that, there's plenty of Internet-searchable evidence that authoritarian ("my way or the highway") parenting causes substantially more harm than good.

Now that that's out of the way, I'm paraphrasing the executive negotiation class I took and translating it to real-life scenarios for raising kids.

Here are the key takeaways:

1. Skip the battle.

If you know you're going to a store that has things your child will ask for but you're not planning to buy them today, offer a preemptive alternative. Different from a "negative no," which might sound like this, "We're going to the store now, but you're not getting anything," spin it a different way. Try this: "We're going to the store now. If you see something you like while we're there, remind me to take a picture of it. We'll put it on your list." Helpful hint: Building your child's trust that something is actually going on his list might not happen overnight. When you do buy something for him at a later date, it helps to verbally add something like, "I remembered that time we went shopping and you put it on your list. That's how I knew you'd like it." Reinforce that you've paid attention.

2. Offer some control.

People (big and little) often feel the most defensive when they feel they have no control over a situation. With my child, when it's time to get out of the pool (or off the swings, or whatever), I know better than to spring the news on her and expect immediate compliance. Fair warning helps everyone involved. That said, for a child who can't tell time, "We're leaving in five minutes" would be meaningless, but in some situations, it can be helpful for older kids. If your child wants to keep doing what he's doing but your answer is no, reduce your child's resistance by trying this: "It's almost time to go. You pick a number (or give a range you can manage, especially if your child knows lots of numbers). I'll count to that number while you finish what you're doing, and then we'll go. What number would you like?" For what seemed like forever, the highest number my child knew was 31. Counting to her "biggest number" helped her feel like we were staying for the maximum amount of time in her universe of numbers, and the glimmer in her eyes as I counted proved how she loved having that influence on our day.

3. Agree for a future date.

Sometimes, there really isn't a way to accommodate your child's request when she wants something. That's fine. Give her peace of mind by telling her when her request (or a version thereof) will happen, instead. Example: she wants chocolate chips on her French toast. Try this: "Chocolate chips really are delicious! Although I'm not putting them on your breakfast this morning, how about if we plan to make that pumpkin chocolate chip bread you like this weekend?" Again, the part you own is making good on the alternative you've suggested. Build trust that you'll follow through. If she wants to go somewhere you can't go right now, intentionally let her watch you put in on the calendar for a day you can go. There's a world of difference for a child between hearing you say, "Sure, another time," which he likely translates as "Maybe never," and "Yes, let's put it on the calendar together. Come look with me for our first available day." Moreover, apply this to little things while you're building trust in this area. Nothing is too small when it's important to your child.

4. Reframe the "no."

Sometimes, when I'm tired or impatient, I hear myself bark, "No, stop that!" What I fail to teach in those moments, though, is why it's important for my child to change course. Unless it's an urgent safety issue, find a positive way to redirect your child. Little and big kids need this. A better option for a little kid might be, for example, "That's the floor. Let's find some paper for you to color on, instead." For a bigger kid, try, "Hmmm, it's getting close to dinner time, so let's stay inside now and make a plan to go back out tomorrow." I hear myself say, "Let's make a plan..." a lot when the timing or approach my child is using isn't workable for me. Choose your words wisely.

Note that in all of these examples, there's no unreasonable negotiating, no cajoling, and no bribing: we’re shopping, but not buying what you want today; you need to stop doing what you're doing; we're not having chocolate chips today.

BUT, if you work to find a “yes” that you can offer, you might find that: "Yes, we can do that tomorrow."and"We're all done with it for today, but let's make a plan to do it again in the morning!"and"Let's wave at the playground as we walk past it today and tell it we'll see it on Thursday!"and"Yes, the next time we're at the store, you can pick some out."

5. Find something on which you can agree.

When all else fails, in executive negotiation terms, find your BANTA (Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement). BANTA means that even if you can't reach agreement with your child, you can still find something to agree on, even if it's agreeing that it's hard to not get what he wants. Sometimes, no just needs to be no.

Offer empathy while your child emotionally processes the limit. It's normal for her to get upset sometimes, and you don't need to "fix" it; just help her understand that you're on her side (even when you disagree). Feel her perspective; internalize it. Sit quietly with her while she expresses her disappointment, just listening and understanding, without justifying or defending your position. Be loving in your "no." Stay with her. Hear her. As always, examine whether you can say "yes," and say it as often as possible. Sometimes, I catch myself saying no because, gulp, I have the Parental Power to Say No, and I don't even know why I've said it. When I think about it objectively, though, I realize how much more often I can say "yes." And do you know what I've learned? Many things, actually—and among them, that chocolate chips are sometimes an excellent alternative to syrup on French toast.

*

You might also like: The Positive Parenting Version of Counting to Three

 

 

When I had my daughter, everyone told me how quickly the time would pass—that I should “cherish every moment,” whatever that meant. Indeed, she’s now on the brink of turning 5. Although some moments have felt like they’d last forever—usually the less-than-pleasant ones—I can only assume that some sort of time warp has propelled us forward unnaturally quickly through the years of her life.What I didn’t expect, however, is that in my mind, I’m still sitting on the rooftop patio of that place downtown that has the amazing view. I’m not paying much attention to the view, though, because I’m listening to my friend across the table tell a hilarious story about a date he went on last night. It’s warm outside, I’m in a sundress, and it’s years before I’d have the amazing child who I love more than life itself. What’s true, though, is that while life is whizzing by in the whirlwind that is parenting, a part of me is still sitting on that rooftop with him; and in a myriad of other places with other friends I hold dear. Friends I love. Friends I will always love. I’ve simply paused those moments, ready to return to them whenever the universe boomerangs me back there in my mind or otherwise. Although she’s years away from rooftop patios, I wish my daughter friendships like these. I never thought much about my kid’s friendships as they relate to how I parent her today, yet I can see how the importance of authentic connection and respect are already influencing her social choices. Just like I want them to be for her someday, my friendships are much of what ground me; what connect me; what help me rediscover myself when I need to—no matter how infrequently I see these non-familial objects of my affection. Just like I cherish every moment with my sweet girl, I also cherish those experiences to which I can return in a mental snapshot. Time really can stand still in the very best ways.

I’d like to think my mental pace most Decembers has been the serene speed of “O Holy Night,” calm and angelic, rendering me capable of mid-afternoon waltzes around the Christmas tree with my young daughter in my arms. More often than not, though, my brain has buzzed around in a chaotic “Feliz Navidad”-in-warp-speed mode. Less angelic by far, it put me more at risk of tripping over an extension cord and knocking out the lights while toppling the tree, thereby unintentionally teaching my kid a naughty word or two. Thefrenzied mode was neither enjoyable nor festive for either of us; so let me share a few tips that have made our holidays brighter. And brighter, they are!

  1. Let the ornaments be. If you have a little one who “helps” decorate the tree and/or house, appreciate the, ahem, artistic genius of those who haven’t learned yet where things “should” be. All your ornaments are on the bottom branches, and only on the side that faces the wall? Excellent. They’ll be less likely to break when someone or something, be it elf, pet, or little hand, accidently-on-purpose touches one. Has your little person chosen to line the tree skirt with empty toilet paper tubes? All the better. Rather than removing them, keep them there. Perhaps the inevitable accidentally-on-purpose maneuver will involve one of those tubes instead of an ornament. All good, see? You’ll save loads of time by not re-doing the tree, and you’ll help build her confidence by leaving it to her innocent expertise.
  2. Let the holiday cards be. I don’t know about you, but over the years, I’ve sometimes felt obligated to order the “big batch” of cards so that I can keep in touch with people from my past.  The thing is, I didn’t entirely like some of those people back when I actually knew them (forgive me, that’s not Christmas-y), and others I was writing out of habit (hey, they were on my list!), so it’s really freeing to take a red pen to the old list. So, go ahead—shorten it. As in, a LOT. Not only will using the red pen to strike some names satisfy your inner teacher, it’s also a festive color this time of year. It’s so very freeing, time-wise and emotionally! With or without any card at all, true friends and family already know that you love them.
  3. Let the days be. Somewhere along the line, I convinced myself that pre-Christmas was supposed to be busier than the rest of the year. As it turns out, that’s not a moral obligation. Online shopping keeps me largely out of the malls and keeps me connected to my kid during her waking hours. Even if there are more cookies to bake (because hey, who doesn’t like an excuse to bake cookies?), what my kid wants most is some normalcy and a mentally present parent. Today, I had planned to rush some gifts to the post office so that they’d be there in plenty of time for a type-A recipient to feel loved, instead of wondering two weeks before Christmas why he hadn’t yet received my box. As it turned out, my child wanted to make a train of dining room chairs and cushions through our kitchen. She wanted nothing to do with the post office. It wasn’t easy to forgo my plan (I’m type A, too), but you know what? The train was more important.  She got to be the gymnast-conductor that she told me she wanted to be, and I got to sit in her train, and just be. Just be. So much of this year is just about being still and enjoying the ride, with or sans pretend train.

At the end of the proverbial day, our ornaments have been rearranged several times, but only by little hands. Some of the people we love will get cards from our family; even fewer will get handwritten notes on them. And my gymnast-conductor-decorator child feels happy and connected, and more like she’s the brightest light of all in our house, and less like the caboose she’d be if I were dragging her around to all the “stuff.” And you know what? We actually did waltz around the Christmas tree today, and it may have been the best thing I’ve ever done. May your December be merry and bright!

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