Tag Archives: family

Checkout Lane Tantrums: Quick, Easy, Healthy Fix (seriously!)

Oh, those checkout line tantrums. Parents dread them. Your child starts making demands, you say no, and suddenly you feel trapped between giving in and standing your ground. Everyone seems to be staring at you with disapproval. Your heart is pounding and you start to fear you are going to lose control. You wonder if you will see yourself on the 10 o’clock news as some sort of example of “worst parent of the year,” and meanwhile, your beloved child is on the floor, turning purple and announcing, loudly, how much you are hated.

Wouldn’t it be great to have a near-magical approach that helped you feel more in control, and helped your child develop necessary psychological skills, like having words for feelings, delaying gratification and enjoying anticipatory pleasure?

First, don’t worry about most of those gawking fellow-shoppers. Either they haven’t raised children (in which case, they can’t know what it’s actually like) or they empathize, so let that go.

Second, put yourself in your child’s place.

You: “I could really go for a steak.”

Other adult: “No, it’s Friday. You don’t want a steak. You want a tuna sandwich.”

You: “Seriously, I really, really want a steak.”

It’s annoying to have someone tell you what you want. Of course you know what you want. You may also know (as in the case of steak on Friday) that it’s not going to happen; that doesn’t negate you wanting it. Just so, the fact that it’s not convenient, or it’s almost dinner, or any other perfectly sound reason not to have candy right now does not make your child’s desire magically disappear.

Third, apply.

Child: “I want candy!”

You: (no sarcasm) “Really, right now?”

Child: “YES!”

You: (calm, maybe coming down to child’s level by squatting, and using a gentle voice), “I know you want candy. I want candy, too, but it’s not time for candy right now.” (You are acknowledging the feeling rather than telling the child how s/he feels)

Child: “But I like candy.”

You: (still calm, still empathetic): “Yeah, it’s sad (or disappointing, or whatever word suits) when I can’t get what I want. I bet it makes you a little sad, too.” (You are helping label the emotion and normalizing it: other people feel it, other people can understand)

Child: (maybe more disappointed than mad at this point) “But I really, really want candy.”

You: (still quiet and calm) “Me, too! So…on Friday, when it’s payday and REAL grocery shopping day, we should each pick out candy. When we come on Friday, what kind of candy will you pick?”

Most of the time, children respond well to this, just as we would to someone understanding our disappointment in not being able to have what we want. We wouldn’t want someone telling us we “didn’t want that job, anyway,” or, “that house/car/college wasn’t right for you, anyhow,” and kids don’t appreciate having their feelings dismissed, either.

It takes practice and consistency to make those checkout lane tantrums disappear. A kid with a healthy memory and strong willpower (both excellent traits that are challenging to learn to manage) may persist in demands, or occasionally, after a period of no problems, suddenly restart the behavior. This is normal; just go back to the acknowledge/label/normalize/teach process and be patient. Another time, we’ll talk about how to handle the situations where a bigger child – older than four or five – becomes super-difficult in public.

Dr. Lori Puterbaugh

© 2015

Posts are for information and entertainment purposes only and should not be construed to be therapeutic advice. If you are in need of mental health assistance, please contact a licensed professional in your area.

The Invisibles

August 29, 2015

The Invisibles

In David Zweig’s new book, The Invisibles, he explores the rich environment of those whose dedication to excellence and satisfaction in their work so often hides behind the scenes…and yet is essential to the lifestyle we enjoy. Examples are fact-checkers, anesthesiologists, and structural engineers. Who, for example, praises structural engineers, or pays them any attention whatsoever – until something goes dreadfully wrong? It’s a deep and interesting read, and well worth one’s time.

There are many of these Invisibles. In fact, a great deal of normal, daily life comprises settling into the role of the Invisible. Consider, for example, the many household duties that must be done and yet fade into invisibility. No one really notices the spouse who, besides holding down a job, drops off and picks up the dry cleaning, buys groceries and makes sure the right items are available for meals and snacks, tends to bill-paying, drops off and picks up children at school and aftercare, packs lunches, checks book bags and furtively checks to see if little toothbrushes have really been used. However, if the other spouse does an unusually good job of tidying up the yard and throws in a bit of extra landscaping – some pavers there, a new pot of herbs here – no doubt the neighbors will toss some praise. The yard work was visible. All that other stuff is background noise.

Of course, the errand-runner ought not to be doing errands to garner praise, and the yard-keeper likewise. Let’s face it, we shouldn’t get the Parent of the Year award for making sure five-year-olds brush their teeth. Adults should be able to accept, with grace, the inevitable invisibility but also seek and honor the invisible, and visible, efforts of our loved ones. It’s not easy to find the time to seek the invisible when you feel overworked and underappreciated yourself. I’ve advised clients in this position to make a list (ostensibly for themselves but also as a family-education tool) of the many tasks that have to be done daily, several times weekly, weekly, bi-weekly and monthly, and post that in the kitchen. It will help them stay organized, and it often generates interest, surprise and then sincere helpfulness in the spouse.

“What’s all this?” (Suspiciously)

“Oh, it’s the stuff I have to keep track of; my therapist suggested I make a list.”

“Holy cannoli, you’ve been doing ALL THIS?”

“Yeah.” (No sarcasm allowed here!)

“Well, what can I do to help? I had no idea all this stuff was going on.” (Here, resist the urge to say, “Well, how the heck do you THINK your dry cleaning got done, the litter box was scooped and your mom’s birthday gift made it to the post office?” That would just generate a contest on who rightfully feels more unappreciated. Odds are, you are both missing opportunities left and right to express appropriate gratitude).

Sometimes, people don’t realize how much invisible work their spouse has been doing until they have been widowed. Then, all the unnoticed tasks their husband or wife did become glaringly obvious. It can be overwhelming and even worse – a big source of guilt for not appreciating all those small, thoughtful, invisible contributions to daily life.

So…look for the invisible and say thank you.

Dr. Lori Puterbaugh

© 2015

Posts are for information and entertainment purposes only and should not be construed to be therapeutic advice. If you are in need of mental health assistance, please contact a licensed professional in your area.

I didn’t intend to eavesdrop…

August 5, 2015

Timeline: breakfast in Savannah, July 30.

I certainly didn’t intend to eavesdrop – listening in feels too much like the part of family psychotherapy called the enactment, when we observe a few moments of an argument that randomly unfolds before us, just to get an understanding of how problems are addressed – but the “free” breakfast in a small, historic inn doesn’t give a lot of space for privacy. So there we were, my hubby and I, in a beautiful old inn, forced to listen to two intelligent, good-hearted parents making fools of themselves in an attempt to talk a school-aged child into eating breakfast. Their efforts included cajoling, bribing, self-deprecating jokes about the father’s supposed fatness and thus how it would be OK for him to go hungry (but not the child), and more increasingly shrill gambols in gambling with their little angel.

How wearisome for them, and how sad for the child, who apparently holds all the cards in this little trio. All day, every step is manipulated by the whims of a child who really doesn’t need or want this much control. The professional part of my brain darkly predicted that this is how they live. The little narcissist-in-training laughs (now adorably but not so for long) at dad’s loving goofiness as he describes himself as “fat” to make her smile and perhaps pick at a bagel and some fruit. Mom tries a bit less hard than dad. I suspect she wishes he would be less willfully weak and is fast losing respect for him, and herself, and feels guilty at her burgeoning resentment towards the dictator-daughter. The teenage years ahead loom miserably, unless the parents decide to nudge their little darling out of the driver’s seat.

They did not ask, and I did not offer…but all that suffering (on the part of all of them – a child running a household suffers, too) is unnecessary. The parents can change how they behave, and the child will catch on quickly enough. No need to drag the girl in for counseling: she is merely taking the scepter handed to her. No, this is an adult problem. If the parents will it, we can fix it. If they choose not to, I predict that the parents’ marriage will suffer and the child, too, will grow up to be  impatient, bossy, and self-absorbed: an impossible-to-please adult who feels entitled to happiness.

As I remarked, at this point, the parents can change that future.

But I was on vacation, not in the office, and it was not dire enough to necessitate violating their privacy by speaking to them.

Still, I wish I could tell them, hey, you can fix this.

 

Dr. Lori Puterbaugh

© 2015

Posts are for information and entertainment purposes only and should not be construed to be therapeutic advice. If you are in need of mental health assistance, please contact a licensed professional in your area.

Parents go home…Again!

Parents, go home (or at least pretend to read a book)!

A few years ago, I wrote a column for USA Today Magazine entitled, Parents go home! I think it bears repeating.

When your child is at sports practice, or dance practice, or band practice…go home. Leave. Banish yourself. If you can’t because of the organization’s requirements that parents be present, or for purely practical reasons, then at least immerse yourself in reading, tearing yourself away from your book while feigning a vaguely surprised expression when your child presents him/herself, sports-gear in hand, to leave.

The common alternative is the shrieking, waving, thumbs-upping, video-recording parent on the sidelines for every practice. Kiddo, your performance is already on Facebook before you get to the drive-thru for dinner. This parent usually also feels obliged to provide all sorts of coaching advice and constructive criticism on the way home. This is bad for kids in all sorts of ways:

  • Your child is learning to be a narcissist. You are sending the messages that everything little Jason or Jennifer does is spotlight-worthy. It’s not.
  • You are nurturing the seeds of histrionic personality disorder: a character problem in which the person has to be the center of attention at all times. The child who repeatedly complains that you weren’t watching during some random moment of practice has internalized an expectation of being observed and admired at all times.
  • Your child is not learning to appropriately transfer filial obedience and acceptance of guidance from you to other adults. This is part of the benefit of teachers and coaches: other people besides you (mom and dad) can be experts, guides, and sources of leadership.
  • Your child is being taught, by your attention, to focus on performance rather than learning goals. Performance goals focus on enacting a flawless routine. It may mean a lot of intense focus, but a performance goal limits us because of the fear of making mistakes. Ultimately, performance goals lead to stagnation. This is because growth – learning – requires mistakes. Great guitarists, including the rich and famous, practice hours a day because they are always learning, pushing themselves, making mistakes, analyzing those mistakes, and integrating what they learn into new skill sets. The same principle applies to any skill. When you place unending pressure on your child by turning every practice session into a performance, you are creating an environment where doing the “safe” thing is best, even in practice, where failure ought to be risked without fear.

There is also the possibility that the obsessively watching parent is gratifying his/her needs through the child’s performance: a need to feel special, to achieve excellence, to be noticed. Our children do not exist to be flattering mirrors for our egos. They are unique and wonderful in their own right, not for our rights. The parent whose need to be recognized as great, via the reflected glow of a super-kid, needs to do some serious self-reflection of a different sort.

Dr. Lori Puterbaugh

© 2015

Posts are for information and entertainment purposes only and should not be construed to be therapeutic advice. If you are in need of mental health assistance, please contact a licensed professional in your area.

 

Odds are…your child is not autistic

Your kid who can’t eat peas because peas “feel gross” is probably not autistic. There is tremendous fear around the ever-expanding construct of Autistic Spectrum Disorder, including rapidly inflating rates of incidence. Interested readers are referred to the ongoing and vociferous feud about this within the American Psychiatric Association and other organizations. Suffice it to say, many experts worry that the increasingly flexible diagnostic criteria, which are, after all, a checklist of concerns, can now embrace a larger number of children who are not autistic but rather are within what used to be the wide range of normal, with a few little quirks. For example, many sensory sensitivities are  normal. I, for one, cannot stand those fuzzy blankets with satin edges. If that fuzzy stuff touches me I feel like my cuticles are crawling. It just makes me crazy. Other people, of course, find fuzzy blankets cozy and comforting but to me, that’s like suggesting nails on a chalkboard are melodious. Some children are more sensitive to food textures than others; some are more sensitive to noise, or bright lights. Without other evidence, do not make yourself, and your child, miserable by assuming your child has a brain disorder.

If you have concerns, consult your pediatrician.  Early intervention and support are critical for children, and minimizing real problems, or over-emphasizing minor quirks, can get in the way of children who really need extra care and assistance getting the help they deserve.

Finally…I like peas. They are not “gross” to me, although there was that protracted standoff when I was four…

D Puterbaugh © 2015

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