Hands Full of Rocks

Working out dreams and fears

Mr G is having some issues with school.

Not class, but kids. See, um, (borrowing my sister's phrase, everyone put on your surprised faces) Mr G isn't your typical average everyday kid.

Nay, he is himself, and that means he's not like other kids. This is starting to present as a problem for him, as he develops his social life.

Even his friends think he's a bit weird.

Yeah, he's a history geek. He doesn't have a dog, and he doesn't have a game system. He has few points of reference between his life and theirs. If he talks about his dreams (metallurgy, smithing, having a house in the woods far from everyone where he lives a non-materialist, near-subsistence lifestyle), they all look at him like he's an alien. They say rude things or look away. They try to steer him back to something that fits within their worldview by being dismissive of his dreams and goals.

There's no way that doesn't hurt. Even though we know he knows himself and will be true to himself, he wants so bad to have peers who understand, who can relate, who can reflect him back to himself in a positive way. He has one, but she has a huge crush on him so he's somewhat iffy about taking in too much of that reflection. (She's also a babe, and smart, and has cool parents, and is a museum and history fiend, but those are apparently entirely beside the point.)

He really needs to be in a Quaker school or a school for the arts, or pretty much any school that isn't just a feeder-pattern school. Not that his school is really that - it is a Charter, which means (here) that everyone there is there because their parents cared enough to get the forms, fill them out, and get them in on time. After that it is lottery, pure and simple.

Either that, or he needs to have more friend contact outside school with the kids from church, or from Meeting. He needs access to the kids from Quaker camp, or insertion into something like the SCA. (I wince, I do - the historical recreation group I was part of as a teen was very down on the SCA for being too into the history and not enough into playing safely - we were very 'use padded weapons in battle recreations you dopes!' at the time.)

For now, though, this school is good - I don't want to pull him while he's developing this process. We want an exit strategy, but we also want working strategies for the process. It is not going to be the last socially uncomfortable situation he'll be in. So, we're working on that part. And these parts:

A) Family safety net: We're here for him. We listened, reflected back how much he'd like to have the things other kids have and love, so that he has points of reference to share. We heard his sadness and hurt over their dismissiveness, and we talked about the less overt forms of social control between peers, and he heard us when we acknowledged how much it hurts - it is essentially subtle bullying. He registered that he has something special in his family that other kids don't have - that we listen, that we respect him, that we take him seriously, that we honor his dreams and goals, that we don't try to control the shape of his future, that we don't use shame on him. He still loves and is willing to value that we're willing to shape our lives to the dreams of our kids - I certainly never thought I'd be sitting over breakfast discussing caudal fin shapes of various sharks with my 4-year-old daughter, but I'll do it because she loves sharks, and I'll love doing it. That's all good, and he heard it.

B) Making bridges to his dreams: We talked out how to earn money for the things he wants, and when we went over the things he really wants, it came back to his real future dreams, and not the things his peers have. Okay, so he does want a dog. And I'm allergic to dogs and we have three cats and a tiny house, and ... no dog. But the game system dropped off radar, and we were back to chain mail and archer's axes. He was overwhelmed with surprise and glee when he found out that (GASP!) mommy knows how to make chain mail. And daddy remembers a bit from watching his cousin (a long-term SCA guy) work on it. WOOO! Bridge structure coming up. We'll lay the planks as we go.

C) Peer management. This one is trickier, and has several layers. One, he has to be willing to address the attitude he gets back, in the moment or later. There's a HUGE decorum and respect requirement at his school, so he has power at his back. Plus the administration thinks he rocks, so they're likely to want to help him out. We'll be working on strategies for how to respond when someone goes iffy on him. We'll also work on strategies for deciding who is safe, who is not, what content is good to share, how to work into a conversation so that you can tie it to someone else's experience, how to listen (er, something he's not great at) to someone else's dreams without either going to envy or annoyance when their dreams differ from yours, and so forth. All the social stuff - which is a years-long task, but definitely could use some work (Mr G being rather a blunt instrument socially).

D) Peer outreach: That is, getting him more hooked in with the other peers, the ones who share his dreams. We've postponed the family reunion because of cost issues (that is, I've only just got my job offer for full-time/perm employment and I'm still mid-negotiation, plus ep is still unemployed), so we really don't have loads of availble cash. BUT, there is this huge Quaker camp (2-weeks sleep-away) that really would suit him, and would have kids whose values are in tune with his... a bit ouchy on cost, though not at all out of line with other camps. So, we need to work on hooking him up with those kids, with the kids at the UU Fellowship (outside school), and probably more with his cousins on ep's side (he's hooked up with two of the ones on my side, at least, and ep's family has a lot of the SCA/history/outdoors/low-materialism thing).

Anyway, that's the plan. That plus listening over and over, hearing him out when he's sad, reflecting that we understand, and showing him the shape of the future. Case in point: I was a weird kid, myself, but while I probably still qualify as weird, many people respect me, and they consider me aware and smart and wise and even interesting. When I had the same understandings about people and relationships and motivations at 10 years old, it was freaky and bizzare and unnatural (10 year old girls should not be observing relationship motivations and figuring out why people do what they do, they should be planning out their dream weddings and going gaga over cute Rock stars and actors, doncha know?). Having those skills now, though, is just useful (waaaay useful, especially since it is my job at work - yesterday was such a good day at work, I can't even begin to express it. Okay, I did express it all over the family, I think I said, "I freakin' ROCK!" - heh - I got a client-side team member (with greater power in the project than we have) to do exactly what we wanted him to do when he had already said he didn't want to and thought it was a bad idea... and to make it quite impressive I explained what I needed to do to my project manager before we talked to the client-side guy (let him get angry, hold him there on the point where he's angry and don't let him start making decisions from there because he goes off in directions that aren't useful, just hold him right to that topic until he calms down), I then did exactly what I said I'd do, and it worked. The client not only apologized for getting angry, he volunteered to do exactly what we wanted him to do. My project manager just looked at me like, 'whoa' and then suddenly started taking me very seriously. I feel all A-Team-ish, 'I love it when a plan comes together'. Heh. Er, okay, sorry, I'm gonna hurt myself patting myself on the back... Still, I have mad People-Do skills, and they hired me to use them, and it is very satisfying to prove the case. Probably more so because it feeds all the way back to the kids saying 'you're weird' when I was 10.)

So much of parenting this age is not letting the kids slip through the cracks or fall through the net. Its teamwork, in the best sense. It helps Mr G just to know we've got his back.

I'm sorry I'm sorry (the art of apology, part 2)

Sorry is a big big deal for me.(Maybe you noticed?)

In part this is because when I was little, my mom told me to lie when it came to sorry. She thought she was teaching me how to express something effectively. But instead I heard it as 'pretend you mean it'. She said, "Say it like you mean it," after I would mutter the demanded apology with anger and bit-off ends of words.

I very clearly remember standing on the back porch, feet on the cool concrete, glowering as she stood  next to my little brother (the two of them on one side of the line, me on the other). She had a hand on his shoulder, and he had tears running down his face but that look of triumph at the same time - she was on his side. My body was locked in fury I was now trying to suppress in the face of impending greater trouble. The memory starts just after I'd said sorry the first time. I could still feel the taste of it in my mouth, and the echo of it in my ears, expressing exactly how un-sorry I was. I'd hit my brother because he was being a jerk. I wasn't sorry, I was angry. I was feeling righteous because he deserved to be hit and I'd hit him. Things were even, dammit! And now here comes Mom, taking his part, making life unbalanced again.

And then she said it. "Say it again, like you mean it." Not what I really needed to hear, which was: "Stop and calm down and look at him crying and assess whether your answer to the problem was appropriate and whether you could consider a better course of action ... and NOW consider if you regret using your hands to solve this problem instead of words. Are you there now? Yes? Now what do you need to say to your brother from here?" If she'd said that, it would have brought me to regret, and connection, and a true apology, and a better relationship. But that's not what she asked. She asked me to pretend I was sorry, and make it sound convincing.

Even at that age, I understand that it was a shortcut. I understand that she was tired of refereeing our disputes - him biting me, me hitting him, him trying to hit me and me holding him off with my greater arm length and laughing at his attempts to get payback and then laughing harder as his fury increased with his sense of powerlessness, only to cycle around again as he got payback in other ways. Our dynamic fed back into the power loop with the parents, making him more protected, encouraging them to make up for the love lost between us (at times) by favoring him with more gestures of love, tilting the balance more out of kilter and increasing my need to punish him for the imbalance of affection, feeding both my jealousy and my sense of worthlessness - because he never really deserved my fury, but I couldn't direct it at the parents with any safety. He was a golden child, and even when I hated that fact, I knew it wasn't his fault.

Even as I steamed over being asked to lie about being sorry, I knew my mom was trying to work a way through to getting us to at least function together, but she was overwhelmed, tired, there wasn't anything left for this. She was working on her own emotional recovery at the time. There was not much left to go around.

Regardless, I needed something else there. It was such a crystalline awareness that the moment stuck as profoundly important, seared into my memory. I knew that this was not the answer I needed, it wasn't the answer he needed, and it wasn't the answer she needed. And I had no idea how to get where we all needed to go. I was, after all, about five years old, maybe six.

Being told to apologize before I felt it, and to do so as if I felt it was a lie that my brother and I both knew was a lie. Saying it sweetly made it no more the truth than it was the first way. I remember losing respect for my mom when she said that. I knew that she didn't care if I felt sorry, she just wanted me to sound like I felt it so she could go back to whatever it was she had been doing. I also knew that saying it as a sweetly stated lie also stole the triumph from my brother, because I wasn't actually made to feel remorseful. All it gained him was another instance of Mom Is On My Side, but no resolution of the injustice of having been hit.

As a result of that memory, we don't enforce 'say sorry' as a first step in apologies. There is stuff that happens before sorry that goes by in a flash for adults, and we draw out those layers in advance of the words. We tend to say, 'please solve this problem,' and if they can't remember the steps, we cue them in a variety of ways (two main variants), depending on how they're acting:

• If someone seems alarmed that they caused an injury or hurt feelings, but isn't doing anything about it, we say: Ask them what they need to make it better. It's not just about the words of apology, but making amends, caretaking, and reconnecting by being of service to the injured party. At a certain age (I think around 5) the injured party may try to make the amends be punitive - give me your favorite toy, let me tear up your drawing, something hurtful back. But an ear on that and a quick, 'try again,' gets a remorseful look back, and then they start at the right point. Before and after that, it generally works without too much adjusting. Provided they're okay with the resolution, I'm okay with whatever they resolve (I do eyeball for whether the one apologizing is overdoing it, too - no giving away precious things for a bumped head is required, or really allowed - they have to try again for that, too). Usually it is much better than what I'd come up with, and often when they work it through this way, they end up being generous with each other. If the demand is high, we may have to coach - say, if one asks for a turn with the other's favorite toy, we coach through a negotiation of whether that is acceptable for the level of hurt, whether the toy is too precious to share, etc. Usually, it has worked out to be a fair balance with remarkably little effort. And sometimes, the answer is genuinely 'I don't need anything' - either they aren't ready to be in relationship yet and want some time to get themselves there without help, or they recognize the remorse and/or the accidental nature of the event, and are already okay with the other person.
• If someone does not seem bothered by having caused harm or unhappiness (especially if they seem gleeful or triumphant that they have done so), we ask them to look at each other. Just look. Look at your sister's face. Or listen to them crying if they are not close enough to look well. At certain ages (2-2 1/2 or so), we get refusals to do this, because they know that their triumph will die if they see how much the other person was hurt, and they want their triumph. They don't want to empathize, dammit! We just wait a moment and then ask again.

We also allow them to take a little time with it. Kids don't snap through their emotions in the whip-crack way adults often do. It is a longer, deeper, more powerful rush, and they're in the midst of that flood, not riding it. Asking them to get out of that state of being and just observe it is like asking someone caught in a flash flood to just swim over to the side. They need a helicopter and someone dropping them a life ring on a rope - and dropping it right next to them, at that.

Which brings me to:

We recognize that there was a reason for their initial injurious action. Whatever happened didn't happen in a vacuum. It is part of a long string of events, and an expression of a true need. Not usually a useful expression if we're talking 'someone got hurt', but a real and valid issue underneath that action. We try to recognize that if there is a pattern of one hurting another, then there is another need unmet in there that needs to be addressed. Kids can be cruel, but they are cruel because of insecurity, or hurt, or jealousy, or fear, or some other emotion that is the result of an unmet need. They need to feel confident, or successful, or precious, or skillful. Sometimes they just need a chance to be in charge of the direction of play. I can't count how many times we had a round of apology because one kid was running the direction of play and not letting the other have a say in how the story went. The imagination gets going and leaves no room for collaboration, and runs over the other child's imagination in the process. Rule-breaking is another, especially with the age gap we have - the understanding of the rules of play differs at different ages. At some ages it is 'the rules are whatever structure allows me to win, and can be changed until I win', and later it is 'the rules are how we play fairly,' and later it is 'the rules are how we determined who won'. Cross two of those, and you'll end up with a fight, and sometimes that means someone gets hurt.

Taking the full process of the apology as important - not just the symbolic statement - prevents the kids from tossing off 'I'm sorry' like that's all that's required. It keeps them from just rubber-stamping the interaction without having to assess their own behavior. It requires they learn new ways to interact. Social rules require the words at the front, but kids learn that from modeling, and the ability to flip through the process at good speed comes with time and practice. From my (probably over-sensitive) perspective, it is more important to teach what triggers the words, walk through the steps that aren't the actual words themselves, because that's less obvious, and in the end I think it's the non-verbal part that is more important to the resolution.

What we're doing is modeling the process broken out in steps, with instructions. Adults tend to do these other steps, either at the time or later. But they're internal, the way calming ourselves down when we're angry is internal.

Is it essential that this process be followed? No. Many people learn how to apologize by the time they grow up. But as a culture we tend to still hold onto the hurt after the words go by, and many people harbor those hurts as wounds and resentment, because the underlying issue was not addressed, or wasn't clearly handled, or was addressed tangentially. I'd rather put the effort into coaching it now than just cross my fingers and hope they're the kind of person who figures out how to apologize effectively after they grow up.

Besides, as much effort as it takes to coach them, it takes way less energy to do it this way, and the positive feedback to me when I see them do it well is a pleasure. Last night, it was Miss R insisting that she was the only one who could watch tv, and Mr B asking nicely, and being rejected unkindly (with some screaming, sigh), and leaving the room in tears of anger and hurt, and Miss R (coached only to listen to him and picture how he felt) saying sorry, asking him with real warmth to please come back, and yes of course you can sit on the bed but could you please sit over by the pillows? Her need to not feel crowded - still handled. His need to be included (and be comfortable) also handled.

I didn't have any reason to say, 'say it like you mean it.'  She meant it.

I'm sorry (the art of apology, part 1)

(Ed note: I know it is tacky to edit after posting, but I couldn't let this one sit with the degree of editing required. So I'm editing.)

My mom and I discussed apologies as well as thanks. When I was a teen, we didn't categorize them clearly in steps, but just started the discussion. Sometime between college and marriage I figured out that there were stages of the process, which she (by then an ordained minister) thought was very useful. Granted, you can skip over my thoughts and go straight to the non-violent communication method (also quite useful, though doesn't specifically say 'I'm sorry' in the front).

The four stages of an apology are these:

• Apology: I'm sorry I ... (emphasis on I)
• Verification of issue: This is what I did, so you know I'm apologizing for the right thing, is this correct?
• Empathy/sympathy/understanding statement: I can see that it hurt/was wrong, your real need was X
• Forward path: My plan for not repeating it is ... Include problem-solving how to more effectively pursue the original goal here, not earlier.

This covers all the issues I've ever had with an apology, either coming to me, or being given.

Apology. Please do not apologize as follows: I'm sorry you feel bad. I'm sorry you got hurt. I'm sorry you're so sensitive. We can state here that it was an accident, but you'll notice that I kind of skip over what the intentions were. The emphasis is on how the other person feels. Discuss how to better express that intention later. Skip the defenses at this point. We really want to jump straight to defense of ourselves at this point because apologizing is a vulnerable state. If they shoot back 'well you SHOULD be sorry!'  just start again, 'yes, you're right, I'm sorry.'  CAVEAT: Anyone who is very good with condition statements that stay on the "I" side of the line ("I needed, and therefore I wasn't paying attention to X", for example) can insert one here. NVC works in this spot. Proceed with caution on that, because it can read as "I'm sorry, BUT my problems are bigger than yours."

Verification. I have had so many people apologize for the wrong part of the problem. It's infuriating to be angry because I feel disrespected, and have the other person apologize for something like not noticing that I was angry. Wrong point in the process, ignoring the cause, or even misreading the cause at the right point in the process. I've also done it, but the four-stage thing helps prevent it from being a bigger issue. This lets them get another 'RIGHT' in - it may still be a stinging, angry, or defended agreement at this point, but it will start to register that you do get it, and that things can start moving in a better direction.

Empathy/sympathy/understanding. Again, NVC works here. You needed. You wanted. Statements that are non-critical, that make you and I the same, that draw on human needs (respect, feeling successful, feeling loved, etc.). This is where we either erase the line between us, or step over to the same side of the line, with the event/error on the other side of it. The message is that we all need these things (though generally, it isn't necessary to say 'just like everyone does' - might give the wrong message). SUPER IMPORTANT to not indicate a need that you think is trivial. 'You needed to go shopping' is trivial, unless it is phrased as:  'You needed a break' or 'You needed to feel prepared for the party' or 'you needed to participate in the choice of gifts' or 'you needed to feel the gratitude for the gift was earned.'

PAUSE. Give them time to absorb this. There's often a beginning of actual interplay here. Physical contact may spontaneously be offered, or the body language will soften. DO NOT DIVE IN. This is not the time to try to sneak in your own need for reconnecting by overstepping the boundary. Eye contact, deep breath, cue from them whether to relax, possibly you'll hear back some 'yeah, I'm sorry, too' at this point, but it depends on what happened.

Forward path. In the future, when I'm feeling X because I need Y, and you're feeling Z because you need Q, would it work if I ... That is, problem solve. We can make clear what ideas we have for avoiding that same mistake, or for catching it sooner. We both have a problem to solve here, can we solve it together? ALSO: Include how to make it better, make amends, ease the pain. Ask, don't tell. It's problem solving, so it's important to keep it from being another opportunity to blunder through and cause further injury. If we have an idea, it is time to propose it, instead of stating it. More, 'I'd like to make this better, can I buy you a new one?' rather than just stating, 'I'll buy you a new one' (which if they really just want to repair the old one, or just want the time to grieve the loss and don't really want a new one, will just cause more hurt).

How it sounds:

Me: Miss M, I'm sorry I stepped on you. That hurt.

Miss M: You didn't LOOK. (correction for the right thing to apologize for)

Me: You're right. I wasn't looking. I'm sorry I stepped on you, I wasn't looking where I was going.

Miss M: grump

Me: You needed me to notice you were there. You needed to be important and visible and noticed. Your feelings were hurt when I didn't pay attention.

Miss M: Yes!

Me: I understand. I will do my best to pay attention and notice you. That way I won't run into you or step on you. How can I make it better? Do you want a hug? Would that help you feel better?

Miss M: (shakes head no. pause. reaches out for hug.)

When we do that, we both feel better.

More coming on this topic ...

Absurd threats and other ways of bypassing knee-jerk parenting

Threats were a common theme in my childhood. Veiled sometimes, implied lots of times, sometimes quite direct. Threats of consequences were typical, as if threatening a future punishment was effective in the face of current temptation (and normal lack of impulse control in childhood). It didn't really work, yet it's embedded in my psyche.

They fall out of my mouth at times, the auto-pilot threat of dire something or other. If you don't stop banging... um. Wait, there's nowhere to go from there that isn't a threat. Sometimes I can't completely stop the process as it is spilling out of me. I can (and do, often) morph it into a logical consequence type thing - that works, if it is something that is worthy of a consequence at all. But many times it is just something that annoys me, and has no real urgency or need to manage and will go away if I ignore it... but I'm not ignoring it, I'm starting in on the threat, and there I am. Going nowhere fast on that second part of the sentence. It can be hard to totally change the knee-jerk thing, but I have learned that I can usually find a way to convert it, switch the track, do or say something that takes it off-angle from where it was headed.

Kind of an internal People-Do thing.  (Pronounced 'people-dough' - People-Do being like Tai Kwan Do, Kendo, Aikido and many other martial arts... essentially using small actions applied to the right point in the process to redirect the power and energy and direction of a PERSON such that it changes the resulting action/encounter - not physically, but socially, psychologically, interpersonally. It's Effective, Prudent - so far it hasn't had any negatives because it takes on their own direction, and I can also usually make it True - possible for it to not be, but a slightly different pressure can align it with my core values, and I can often align another person more with their own expressed values, too, when they're off-track and reacting instead of responding. Works on me, as well.). 

I've taken to working the threat part of the automatic knee-jerk statement (if I'm already there) to the absurd extreme so it converts my own frustration into something more like funny. I need a bit of a push at times, but the kids are starting to get the game. Luckily. Because I suck at funny.

So, the other night. Mr G is tapping on the (metal) frame of his bunk-bed while we're trying to get everyone to fall asleep.

Me: ARGH! If you don't stop tapping on your bed, I'll... uh, (scramble! help! words still piling up, adjust tweak!) tie your hands together and tape them to the ceiling...

Mr G: (pause, incredulous voice) Was that a threat?

Me: Sorta. It was supposed to be absurd and silly, but I didn't get far enough. Let me try again. I'll, hmm.

Mr G: Here, how about, 'I'll hang you by your thumbs from the middle of the ceiling'?

Me: Not bad. How about this - I'll hang you by your HEELS from the middle of the ceiling.

Mr G: Hey, B, did you hear that one? I think hanging me by my ankles sounds worse. Whaddya think? Heels? or Ankles?

Mr B: Grumble.

Me: Um, oops! Trying to go to sleep! Okay, SHHH everyone, if you don't be quiet so we can fall asleep, I'm going to ... uh, (shit! did it again! Scramble to backup!) BOOGERS! Make everyone eat boogers. (Because the default answer is always 'boogers'. Obviously. Right? That, or butt. That's another strategy, throwing in an unexpected word as an answer. Even if they now expect me to toss 'boogers' out there when I'm stumped, it works.)

Mr G: Eew, MOM!

Mr B: (giggle, snort.)

Miss M: (giggle, giggle, laugh.)

Miss R: (giggle, chortle, giggle.)

Me: (mock dramatic voice) WAIT. NO LAUGHING. It's time for sleep. We do not laugh at bedtime. No giggles! Sleep!(mock drama is another of the self-people-do things. I can say what is coming out, but convert it by changing only the tone of voice. Silly voices work, too.)

All: (More giggles progressing to outright laughing.)

Me: NO. NO sillies. There is to be no silliness in this house! I'm the mom, and I say so! Stop giggling!

All: (more giggles and laughter.)

Me: (deep breath, calming voice) Okay, now, time to be done. Sleeeeep. Time to go to sleep.

Miss R: (more giggles)

Me: (mock sternly) No giggles.

Miss R: (laughs harder)

Me: (quietly and calmly) Shhhh. Really. Shh.

Miss R: (sigh, roll over and pat my arm)

Me: (gently and with affection) Go to sleep everyone.

And hey, they did.

I guess I'm getting a little better at the bedtime stuff. But I'm going to have to be quicker on the elaborate impossible threat thing, if they're going to take the absurd part seriously... er, seriously un-seriously. Unseriously-seriously?

Er.

Boogers?