I fully expected Bodhi to take to pre-school like a duck to water. On our observation visit, Bodhi ran down the hall into a classroom and immediately begun playing with the toys. He happily joined in at snacktime (apparently children don’t usually eat if they are uncomfortable). Within minutes, the director commented, “Oh yeah, he’s ready.”

The school resonated with us on many levels – the conscious Montessori philosophy that reflected our own, the kind and caring teachers, the many stimulating activities that Bodhi dove right into. We felt comfortable knowing that one of his friends was in the same class. Given Bodhi’s inquisitiveness and high energy, we thought Montessori might be a better fit than other schools that we considered. We wanted to try the Montessori way out in the toddler program, since we didn’t think we’d want to send him to a 5-day a week preschool next year (which was the only option at this school).

As you may have gleaned from these blogs, Bodhi is typically precocious, outgoing, and confident. He hardly glances up when I leave him with his nanny, grandmother, or babysitter. He’s used to being dropped off at relatives’ houses. He spends several mornings a week with his nanny out and about in the world. I figured pre-school would be an organic next step. Boy, was I wrong.

The school had a gentle transition policy – parents can stay for as many days as it takes to acclimate the child. I liked this gentle approach. So I was quite surprised when he burst into tears when I said I was leaving after a successful first few days. I chalked it up to a normal transition, recalling a few times that he’s cried for a few minutes when I’ve walked out the door. When his teacher reported that he continued to cry for almost an hour, I was really baffled. While he expresses emotion readily, it usually passes like a thunderstorm.

Each time we went to school or talked about school, Bodhi would ask if I would be leaving him there. He often started crying – which was the first time I observed him crying about an event that was about to happen in the future (as opposed to crying because of being hurt or angry in the moment). He was swatting at me, which he had never done before and generally seemed out of sorts. His nanny told me he seemed more aggressive with other children on the playground and when asked about school, he wouldn’t answer when he normally chats about any activity he loves non-stop. What really caught my attention, was that he no longer wanted me to leave him with his nanny, grandmother, or babysitter – all of whom he adores.

As I sat with all I was observing in Bodhi, I was struck that he not only wasn’t being his “normal” self when I tried to drop him off (which I somewhat expected) but he also wasn’t being his “normal” self in all the other aspects of our life either. My mind lobbed reasons why it made sense to keep him in school. Yet my heart kept whispering its doubts. The more I listened to what I was sensing and feeling, the more I had to align with my intuition. 

Given all the changes in Bodhi, I realized that he wasn’t ready for a drop-off school. He was communicating this in the best way he knew how – through his emotion and his change in behavior – not to mention he verbalized not wanting to go the best he could. I questioned whether I should “push” him through the transition, knowing that if we stuck at it, he would eventually adjust. Then I caught myself. We didn’t need to have Bodhi in school, we had other childcare options. He’d be in school for the rest of his life. Why push, when we’ve been so conscious about being gentle and nurturing from his first day of life?

When I took another step back, I witnessed all the recent changes in his life that coincided with him going to school. Being in school 2 days a week meant that he was away from me one less morning and away from him nanny one less morning. It also meant that he no longer could play with his best buddy since they were on an opposite day of the week school schedule. His “Manny” and “Mammy” (Rita & Ed), who were like an additional set of grandparents, just moved to California. And he was now hanging out with a large group of children for multiple hours in a row, when he’s normally not in a large group or class for more than 30 minutes to an hour. Added up, that’s a whole lot of change for a 2 ½ year old.  

As I communicated my concerns to the school, they were generally very supportive of making it easier for Bodhi. Yet I also sensed an underlying attitude that I was the one who wasn’t ready to let him go through this discomfort. When they suggested sending him to school 3-days a week instead of just 2, every cell in my body said “no.” While I understood that a 3-day a week plan would be more consistent (and would have made sense if I was truly committed to having Bodhi go to school), I knew in my heart that this wasn’t the solution for Bodhi. Without being able to fully articulate why, it simply didn’t feel right to keep sending him to school. So I withdrew him from pre-school.

We went to school one more time to say goodbye to his teachers and to his guinea pig friend. I thanked the teachers and director profusely – they really had done their best to make Bodhi’s school experience as comfortable and enriching as possible. As we waved goodbye and I told Bodhi that I wouldn’t be leaving him by himself at school any more, I could feel him relax. Within days, all the changes in him subsided. It was like he was a different child, only the difference was he was our sweet, old gregarious Bodhi. We signed up for a Mommy & Me “school” which he loves and talks about eagerly all week.

Looking back, I can see all my logical reasons for enrolling Bodhi in school. I am proud that Bo “dropped out.” In fact, what I’m most proud of is Jamie and my willingness to listen to Bodhi’s emotion and behavior, as well as our own intuition, over what our minds – or anyone else had to say about Bodhi being in school.

When I called my mom to tell her that Bodhi dropped out of school, she laughed. “Well, your grandmother would be happy,” she said. “Why?” I asked intrigued. “I enrolled you in pre-school when you were 3 and you hated it, so I pulled you out. Your grandmother thought it was ridiculous to enroll a 3 year old in school so she was quite pleased when you ‘decided’ that you didn’t want to go.” Not it was my turn to laugh. Who knew that Bodhi was merely following his mother’s footsteps? 2^nd generation pre-school drop-out indeed!

Questions for contemplation:

1. When you are making decisions for your child, do you often go with your gut or heart?
2. If you notice a change in your child’s behavior, emotion, or attitude, do you tune in to him/her, and “listen” to what they are saying?
3. Are you willing to go with your gut/heart/intuition over what your head may say? Over what the outside world has to say? 
4. Do you support your child when they go with what they are feeling instead of what makes logical sense?

If you answered “no” to any of these questions, check in with ways that you might be more open and willing to consider the wisdom and intelligence that comes from an internal knowing – balanced with what comes from common sense or logic. Your body – and your child – may one day thank you!

Case in point: we were about to leave the playground, or rather I was ready to leave given our schedule. Bodhi was too happy to be in the moment, popping in and out of a tower in a miniature castle.

I went through my usual routine, giving Bodhi a few minutes of warning, explaining that we were going to meet Papa and Mammy Rita for lunch (!), asking him to come down now. None of it enticed him.

Since he was inside a child-sized castle, it would have made picking him up a rather tricky endeavor. Plus I don’t like to “force” him to come with me. I prefer that he is motivated to happily come along. So I dug a little deeper to be more clever and more creative than my two-year-old.

“Pepper’s in the car. What? What Pep? You can’t wait to hear all about Bodhi’s adventures?” Bodhi paused momentarily to consider my “conversation” with his rabbit stuffie, then went back to playing. “What? You’re getting into Bodhi’s snack?” Bodhi raised one eyebrow. Still, no dice.

I felt like a batter swinging at balls and missing. How could I inspire Bodhi to come along? I suddenly remembered that a VW tow truck was often parked in an adjacent repair shop.

“Hey Bo, I wonder if that old VW tow truck is parked around the corner?” Bodhi is a classic truck/car fanatic. Before I knew it, Bodhi was running toward our car. “Come on Mama! Let’s go see!”

Now I was the one being “dragged” along in his enthusiasm. As soon as I discovered an activity that was more interesting and enticing than what he was currently doing, he gladly came with me.

So how do you motivate and appeal to your child and their interests? How can you create a game or scavenger hunt? What are other ways that have worked for you?

Here’s to keeping it clever and creative.

Most of us think of discipline as either punishment or consequences. Until recently, I have to admit I tended to fall into the “there are consequences to your actions” category. This approach is useful, and often even necessary, but it misses an opportunity for teaching our children at a deeper level. Let me illustrate.

Yesterday Bodhi asked me to carry his wooden rocking boat (think rocking horse, but boat – we live in a historic fishing/lobstering/boating town) downstairs for him. He was carrying a blue pen, which he has recently become enamored with. We’ve been having lots of discussions about pens going on paper, not _____________ (fill in the blank – walls, tables, chairs, people, clothes, etc.) 

As I’m about to go down the stairs, he uncaps the pen and scribbles on the bottom of the boat. I calmly say, “Bodhi, pens are used on paper, not boats” but internally I’m a little annoyed that I’ve have to tell him the rules – again. I put down the boat to take away the pen so he can “take a break” (the usual consequence of writing on a forbidden surface). He runs away, knowing that the pen is about to be taken. I follow him into a closet and crouch down to his eye level. I see him in a defensive posture, ready to defend his pen. Then I have one of those “a-ha” moments.

If I force the pen out of his hand, I am modeling that it’s okay to use force to get what I want. Do I really want to communicate through my actions that bigger makes right? Or that exerting fear/force is a way to solve problems? I suddenly wonder, “From his point of view, what motivated him to write on the boat? Why didn’t he understand that it’s not okay to write on the boat?” So I ask him.

He breathlessly tells me that he wanted to make water for the boat to go in. He launches into a story about using a crane to take the boat out of the water (as he has been witnessing in our local harbor.) Now I can see his logic. I have understanding.

I see that his 2-year-old in-the-moment, impulse driven mind wasn’t capable of thinking through “this is a boat, not paper, so I’d better not write on it.” So I suggest to Bodhi that we go find some paper for him to draw blue water on, then we can put the boat in it. He nods and smiles. I ask him what we draw on. His reply, “Paper.” And I question him as to whether it is okay to draw on boats. He solemnly replies, “No.”

I am still wavering about taking the pen away, when I realize that I’ve accomplished what I want – Bodhi understanding where we use a pen. I’ve also supported his creativity – we’re now making water for the boat without drawing on the boat itself.

In this approach of using “discipline,” I strive for the true meaning of the word. “Discipline” comes from the Latin, meaning “instruction” or “knowledge.” Instead of viewing Bodhi as being or acting intentionally bad, I looked for ways I could guide him toward learning. I expanded my point of view to be able to see his, and then worked to find a solution that helped him gain deeper understanding into his actions. In doing so, I model for him how to internalize the lesson and to think for himself.

Instead of taking the pen, I took his hand. I could feel his whole being relax. He had “learned his lesson” and also had been able to express himself both verbally and creatively. I felt my heart expand and connect with his, grateful for this new point of view.

Here are a few suggestions for using “discipline” as a way to teach:

1. Take a step back.* When our children do something “wrong,” our first response is often to feel angry, annoyed, or out-of-control. Breathe. Wait to communicate with them when you are both in a calm space. An emotional child (or person for that matter) is usually not able to hear or learn until the energy has cleared.

*Obviously we use our common sense, to “step in” if there is a dangerous or unsafe situation at hand.

An example: Bodhi and another boy got into a pushing match in a Mommy-and-Me class this week. When I took him outside the room, he was too mad about having to leave to talk with him and I was a little frazzled from pulling the boys apart. Yet during the car drive home, I was able to “discipline” him through talking about what had happened so that he understood the situation, his actions, and possible alternatives for the future.

2. Remember your larger intent & purpose. What are you trying to teach your child? What’s the big picture? What energy are you using to communicate your lesson with? Do your actions align with your lesson?

On the surface of the above boat example, I was teaching Bodhi about how to use a pen in a way that doesn’t deface his belongings. Yet when looking at the bigger picture, what I really want to teach Bodhi is how to think through what he is doing and to direct his creativity in appropriate ways. Not to mention that love and understanding trump force or fear.

3. Discover how your child is thinking. Often we view our child as intentionally misbehaving. Yet what if we instead viewed our child as having innate wisdom and common sense? When they “misbehave,” they usually have  not fully internalized or understood what we value. Or their own thinking may be preventing them from connecting to their own wisdom. When we start by “seeing” the world through their eyes and discover why they acted as they did, we can build a bridge to help and guide them to deeper understanding of their true selves and their actions. So ask questions with an open mind and heart. Then listen.

 4. Upon reaching understanding, there is no need for further discipline. When your child understands what happened and how they might make a different choice in the future, your work is done. There is no need to create another consequence or punishment (such as removing the pen from Bodhi’s hand).

Our main job as parents is to guide and teach our children. How do you want to go about doing so? Feel free to wiegh in.

This blog was inspired by Parenting from the Heart by Jack Pransky. I can’t recommend this book more highly.

He’s wound up from Jamie’s brother’s 60th birthday party/mini-family reunion. For the last 4 1/2 hours, he’s been running around with a gaggle of cousins and a few stray neighborhood kids. He’s clearly exhausted – as am I – and yet has no obvious intention of going to sleep anytime soon. He’s attempting every stall tactic in the book.

I feel my frustration rising. It’s several hours past his normal bedtime. And I still have to clean up from the party. A mere six months ago he was sound asleep by 6:30. Then it crept up to 7:30. Now we’ve entered the slippery slope of a summerhood schedule of late naps and late nights. I want to put the brakes on this trend – tonight is the all-time record. I’ve got to get him into bed now.

As I am trying to hustle, skip, and negiotate my way past the regular nighttime rituals, I catch myself. He’s just spent the last few hours in a pack of roving older kids, swirling among a large crowd of adults. Occasionally he checked in for a quick snuggle or a request for a drink, but it’s the first time at a party that he’s been old enough to hang with the big dogs. He had a taste (or two) of sugar, which he almost never has.

While I’d like nothing more than to speed up (ok ditch) the nightly ritual: reading, rocking, chatting about his day… into the crib, rubbing his back, singing, sitting by the bed – he needs even more time to wind down. Perhaps it’s not so different than myself as an adult. I might read a little more or watch a little extra TV to unwind for a particularly busy day. Yet when it comes to Bo being up late, I’m thinking “It’s late, we’re both tired, let’s skip the books. Hurry this up already!” Meanwhile, I can sense he’s feeling, “It’s late, I’m tired and wound up, let’s read a few more books. Slow down a bit!”

When I slow down to his pace, I see the consequence of allowing him to stay up late is that I need to let him stay up later and take more – not less – time to wind down. So I relax into his rhythm. We read another book. We rock a little longer. We process his day in greater detail as he sorts through the relationships among all his relatives. I rub his back more. I sit by his crib longer.

He’s finally settling down when he reaches his hand out through the bars of his crib. This isn’t part of our usual dance. His little hand grasps my finger. Of course my heart melts a little more. I close my eyes and rest, savoring the moment, feeling the connection between us. Silence falls around the edges of the room.

I’m about to sneak out to tackle the dishes when I hear his sleepy voice call out, “Mama?” “Yes, Bo,” I reply. “What are you doing?” he asks. “Sitting here, loving you,” I say. And with that he falls into a deep and peaceful sleep.

As I tiptoe down the stairs, I know that times like these – when I am present to his needs and his timeline, when I am willing to listen to his questions – are the basis for a life-long conversation and friendship. The investment I make today will pay off when I want him to talk with me as a teen. I vow to myself to remember that when he’s up late, make more time for preparing to bed.

When I walk into the kitchen, I smile. Jamie and Nick (our teenager) are joking around, just finishing up the dishes. Jamie asks, “Bo down?” I nod yes, “Finally.” I sigh. Now I too can go to sleep.

I know that there are others of you out there who are just like me: we love being mamas and we want to do it more mindfully. (For that matter, here’s a shout out for those men who love being papas and want to be more mindful too.) Yet that doesn’t mean that we don’t feel overwhelmed or frustrated. We do – most often daily. We even have moments of not loving being mamas or not caring a whit about being mindful in order to get through our day. But underneath our challenges, we love our children to death (we may even love our partners, jobs, ourselves or other aspects of our lives to death too) and want to discover ways to not only be better and more mindful mothers, but also to be more conscious, passionate, and balanced human beings.

Being a mindful mama is no easy task given the state of today’s world that we are raising our children in, not to mention the whirlwind of our personal lives. We face many real challenges. We often question how to best nurture the next generation to be kind, compassion, and giving on a planet that is often filled with fear. We question how to balance work and family, “me” time with family time. We think we have it figured out and then have to surrender when our children change, we change, and the world around us changes.

Yet through it all, we desire to grow: to grow as a fulfilled person, to grow as an aware parent and to raise children that are happy and healthy. This growth process is a life-long one – and can be based in self-discovery and awareness. That means that each of us are discovering for ourselves what works for our wonderfully unique personal and familial situations. I certainly don’t have all the answers to the challenges you will face as a parent. In fact, I don’t have any answers for you. What I do have is my experience of finding an approach to mothering that often – but not always – works. This approach is based in honoring what our heart and intuition tells us, knowing that we must take care of ourselves in order to take care of our children, and challenging ourselves to be creative on how we connect with our kids.

My experience and approach is based on the good fortune of studying with a great spiritual master and then working with my own clients and students for over 10 years before I became a mother. I have also worked with children, parents, and educators as an elementary school teacher, professional development seminar leader, and personal growth/spiritual transformation life coach. I’ve spent years teaching in the inner-city, as well as in tony neighborhoods in Beverly Hills and Boston. I’m both a mom and a stepmom to a toddler and a teen.

As I come into contact with other women interested in conscious and unconditional parenting, I am deeply humbled by what we tackle each day with grace, laughter, and yes, a certain level of exhaustion. Our experiences are varied – from first time mamas and grandmammas, to stay at home moms and working moms, plus those of us who give it a go with ½ and ½. I am continually touched at how none of us are the same or choose to live/parent in the same way – and yet we all have an inner wisdom that we can tap into given a few spare minutes (which I know are few and far between), the heart-felt desire, and a couple of tools and tips. Nothing feels more empowering than being supported and supporting, being respected and respecting each other and our very different choices on how we interact with our children and the world at large. When we come together we combine our wisdom, experiences, and energy to become more than the sum of our individual parts.

Nothing fills my heart more than having the privilege and honor of connecting with other moms like you, who love being a mom too and are exploring how to navigate our way through our full lives. Many of us have come together to form a community of respect and support through my website and mindful mothering circles. Because let’s face it – being a mom who takes care of both herself (emotionally, spiritually, creatively, physically, and/or professionally) and her family takes time and effort. It sure helps to be in a group of women who can understand what you’re going through, cry with your frustrations and cheer you on with your successes.

So I invite you to take a seat in our inner circle. Draw up a chair. I’d invite you to grab a cup of tea, but more likely I know you are reading this on the fly or before you nod off to sleep – which is why I’ve made each blog (relatively) short and engaging. In this blog, you’ll find ways to think about and feel through common challenges, as well as practical real- life steps that work in everyday situations. More importantly, I have the deep and certain conviction that you will continue to uncover the truly incredible being that you are and to let that shine through all aspects of your life, including how you mama (or papa!).

* The word “good” is certainly loaded, especially given the current good mom/bad mom debates. A good mom, my definition, is a mom who does her best given whatever she is feeling and facing each moment. When I use this term I do not mean to uphold an image of perfection or a judgment on how anyone, including myself, chooses to mother.

I just weaned Bodhi and wrestled with some of the same feelings myself. I loved nursing Bo and felt very committed to the health and emotional benefits – which is why we nursed until he was over 2 years old. But as he neared 2, I noticed that I was ready to have my body “back.” And yet I wanted to honor his timeline for naturally weaning himself. Neither one of us was completely ready to give our time together up. We particularly loved to nurse him in the morning which meant that I had some time to slowly wake up as I’m not a get-up-and-go type of person. We would snuggle under the covers and drift in and out of a semi-sleepy state, which seemed to help both of us transition into our day. Once Bodhi is up – he’s running.

Despite the benefits of nursing, as Bodhi’s second birthday drew near, I could no longer ignore what I was feeling. I was becoming more and more agitated when we were nursing. He started doing the “Nursing Olympics” (as Jamie dubbed his maneuvers) – wanting to nurse sideways, upside down, standing on one leg, etc. It really wasn’t comfortable for me.  I tried encouraging him to lie down which usually didn’t work. If I wanted to stop or get out of bed, he pawed at me more and become distraught. I didn’t want to be sharing my aggravated energy with him, and yet my body was truly not comfortable with the Olympics. Nursing this way was no fun!

To top it all off, Bodhi was still waking up at 5:30 each day to nurse, then returning to sleep for another hour or so. I was really ready for full night of sleep. If he was weaned, I had a hunch that we’d all start sleeping through the entire night and be more rested. I felt conflicted about weaning him, but eventually I realized that the bonded, snuggly feeling that we used to feel when nursing him was gone. With it, my desire to nurse was weaning. We were both becoming frustrated with each other.

I knew that in order to wean him, I’d have to change our routine. During this time (over a few months), I tried lots of weaning methods – asking my husband to get up and soothe Bodhi during the super early mornings, distracting Bo with books or other food, nursing for progressively shorter times, nursing sitting up in a chair. All of this helped to some extent, and yet I didn’t see an end in sight.  

I kept complaining about my frustrations over weaning to Jamie – and asking him to help out more. Even though Jamie needs to be up and out to work quite early in the morning, I wanted him to get up with Bodhi and take him downstairs on a daily basis. I justified my argument – on the weekends, Jamie often takes Bodhi off for some boy time (without nursing) while I get to blissfully sleep in. This plan would work!

Jamie wisely refused. He pointed out that I had to be the one who was ready to give up nursing. Not just ready to give it up because I was frustrated, but ready to truly shift my relationship with Bodhi. On an energetic level, I need to let go of my mixed feelings on no longer nursing my little one. Jamie also felt that I needed to be the one to communicate with Bodhi when I was ready to be done. Jamie pointed out that I was asking Papa to come in between Bodhi and his Mama. Not only did this usually result in louder wailing, but it also put a strain on his relationship with Bo.  

Reluctantly, I acknowledged that Jamie was right. (J, did you catch that? YOU WERE RIGHT.) And it took me several more weeks to let go of my ambivalence. During this letting go period, I really enjoyed the times we were able to nurse peacefully knowing that these days were soon coming to an end. I felt sad about Bodhi no longer needing me in this way. I had to acknowledge that he was growing up and becoming more independent (while of course needing me in so many other ways).

What finally helped me shift to a peaceful place inside, was trusting that Bodhi and my relationship would deepen and grow in new ways once we stopped nursing. I began to see our nursing years as a foundation for a physical and emotional intimacy. Now it was time to expand that base by snuggling without nursing, reading books, sitting quietly in a rocking chair and talking, building a “nest” in his closet where we play with stuffed animals and arrange cozy blankets. All delightful and intimate ways to connect.

So one morning I woke up ready. Instead of bringing Bodhi into bed, we sat in the rocking chair. He asked to nurse and I told him quietly, “No, we are not going to do that right now.” I didn’t make a big show of it and yet there was a quiet firmness within me. Then I began singing to him. We read a book. He fussed a bit but instead of nursing, we moved to another room.

For the next few weeks, I was often tempted to nurse him again when he asked or started crying. Each time I would acknowledge that he wanted to nurse, that it must be hard to let go of nursing, that we weren’t nursing now. I made sure to replace our nursing time with extra attention and snuggling – I saw it would be easy to just skip the 20-30 minutes of easy waking up and jump into doing. I reminded myself that my connection to him was still very important to me and I became more creative on fostering that close, snuggly feeling that we both loved when nursing. We all started sleeping through the night and it is lovely to wake up feeling more rested.

It’s been a few months now of not nursing and Bodhi still asks to nurse on a regular basis. Of course this makes me wonder if we weaned too soon and yet I know it was the right time for both of us. On occasion, we do still nurse. Sometimes it might just be for a minute and then I tell him that it’s enough, he had some time with the “nurses.” Or once while travelling he woke up after a nap really agitated. I sensed his whole being craved the comfort and closeness of nursing given that we were in a new environment which had shifted his routine. So we nursed for quite some time. Now, when we do choose to nurse it feels like special time together again and he nurses in a calmer, more snuggly way.

For me, it was time to wean. While I considered both my feelings and Bodhi’s before making my choice, I was the one who initiated the process. And yet I have another friend who was tired of waking up several times throughout the night, but she wanted her daughter to be the one who decided when to quit. One night, her daughter didn’t ask to nurse, finally slept through the night, and never has asked since.

What I’ve discovered from this process is that there’s no right or wrong way to stop nursing. It can be on the mother’s timeline or the child’s and there are many methods for helping the process go more smoothly. What I do know is that if you (as the mother) are ready to wean, then it helps to release any emotion or energy around no longer nursing. Once you are clear energetically and committed to your course of action, your child will sense this shift in you. Your certainty (or as much of it that you can muster) will make it easier for both of you to let go of nursing and deepen your relationship in other ways.

Looking back, I see that I wanted someone outside of myself (my husband or son) to remedy a situation that was bringing me frustration. Yet once I took responsibility for how I was truly feeling – ready to stop nursing and longing to continue the connection with my beloved Bodhi – I found ways to do so. I know that when you are ready, you will too. And if you are not quite ready yet, then do your best to enjoy this precious time with your child. Nursing will be over before you know it!

*Not her real name.

For those of you familiar with children, you know that a toddler in the midst of a full scale tantrum can be quite bewildering. The mere mention of it often sends shudders down parents’ spines. Innocent bystanders at the grocery store are likely to cringe at the thought too. Lots of emotion flies around – both within our little one and ourselves. We can easily feel clueless about how to best help our child while maintaining our own sanity. Just what are we supposed to do when confronted with an enraged two-year old?

Our meltdown this afternoon started with an overly tired toddler, who was also sporting a dirty diaper with diaper rash. When informed that he not only needed a diaper change but also couldn’t drink the water that he had been using to clean off his chalkboard, he went over the edge into a tantrum. Yep, complete with shrieking, flailing, crying, and wandering around in a daze sobbing.

My first instinct, which was quickly rebuffed, was to pick Bodhi up and hold him. My heart ached and I wanted to comfort him. And right below that, what really I craved was to be in control of the situation and make the tantrum stop – for both our sakes. After louder wails and some vehement kicks, I realized that his emotional energy needed an outlet. It was flowing through him at full velocity, and I was powerless to stop it.

But before I could truly help Bo, I had to pay attention to what I was feeling myself: some helplessness, some sadness that he was so upset, and yes, frustration. I felt my own emotion surge within me as his sobs grew louder. I took several deep breaths as I watched my well-planned afternoon unravel. I was counting on naptime to take care of emails, calls, writing, the works. It was so tempting to become mad!

Instead (with all the will I could muster), I chose to take a deep breath and detach from my “to do” list. The biggest gift I could give Bodhi in this moment was to take care of him and help him navigate his tantrum. And putting pressure on myself to both mother mindfully and get my work done was not helping me be present in this moment.

As I turned my full attention to Bodhi, I realized that trying to contain or control this energy would only prolong the tantrum. Like the thunderstorms that have been rolling through our town, the downpour needed to move through his body. The best I could do in this initial stage was to make sure that he was safe – not harming himself, myself, or lastly any objects.

I watched, a bit at a loss, as Bodhi fumbled about screaming at the top of his lungs. He would momentarily distract himself by playing with the door knob or slamming down the toilet seat, only to frustrate himself more. I felt like a spectator at a car wreck: unsure of what to do but wanting to help.  I noticed that this helpless feeling started triggering my doubt: Was I the cause of this tantrum? Did I contribute or do something wrong? Then, like a flash of lightning, I clearly felt: I am not the cause of Bodhi’s tantrum. This is his tantrum and he has to work through it himself. Don’t take this personally.

But wait! Not so fast! my mind protested. The windows are open. Our neighbors are going to think that I’m killing this kid… And you teach mindful parenting classes. Ha! Your kid is having a major meltdown and you don’t know what to do! I took a deep breath. Luckily, I saw these thoughts for what they are: judgments from deep within that are not necessarily true in the light of day. I gently smiled at my mind and thanked my thoughts for appearing, then let them pass.

As I sat watching Bodhi emote, my mind raced over the past few hours and days. Like a movie camera in reverse, I watched his refusal to take a nap this afternoon, the disruption in his routine with an older child in the house at naptime, the rainy weather that’s kept him pent up inside, the holiday weekend filled with parties, late bedtimes, and lots of activity. Of course none of these “rational” explanations were relevant in this moment. Explaining any or all of these to him would have been meaningless in the middle of his emotional outburst. (How rational are we as adults when we’re in the middle of a big emotion? Usually not very.) While knowing all of these factors may be helpful for future prevention, what was most called for now was my calm presence.

I felt a release within myself as I let myself off the hook mentally and emotionally. I then was able to ask myself, “How can I best serve Bodhi right now?” Instantly, I knew to drop to the ground, to come down to his level. I sat a few feet away from him, letting him see me near – alert and as calm as possible. I began breathing deeply to center myself some more. I grounded myself energetically and “held the space” for him to go through what he was feeling.

For a minute or so, I could feel his emotional energy wash over me. It was almost painful to witness what he was going through. I breathed deeply and focused on allowing this feeling to also pass through me. I know from experience with my clients, that if I model moving emotional energy through my body, their body responds and it helps them release more easily. I trusted that this would be the same with Bodhi. In fact, I believe that this unspoken, physical connection between physical bodies is even stronger between a parent and child since Bodhi and I come from the same DNA and have already established a deep emotional bond.   

As I continued to connect to my breath and settled into a calm knowingness inside of me, my heart went out to Bodhi. Compassion surged. We were entering a new territory together. I didn’t have a plan and yet I had enough awareness and faith to know we would work it out. As I shifted to seeing this emotional storm from Bodhi’s point of view, I was able to more fully let go of any of my own concerns and emotion.

As I checked in with Bodhi, he seemed not only mad and out of control, but also lost. As he stumbled around shrieking, I knew it must be scary for him to be experiencing so much emotional energy surging through his body. After all, I’ve had emotional explosions as an adult that felt overwhelming even with the knowledge of how they were triggered and how emotional energy works. He seemed caught in the throes of an energy bigger than him and he had no tools to deal with it – other than to rely on me.

I continued to sit by him, breathing deeply, until I noticed that his energy was not quite as intense as it had been. Even though it felt like eternity, perhaps 5 or 10 minutes had passed. I crawled over to him and scooped him up into my arms. This time he didn’t fight me even though he was still crying loudly.

His emotional energy was still frenzied and hadn’t released fully. His sobs indicated that more energy needed to pass through his body. What to do? I took a clue from him, remembering how he calmed down a bit when he distracted himself by swinging our bathroom door. So I turned on one of his favorite CDs rather loudly (The Napping House, which is a book on CD with musical tracks.) I cranked the volume to match his energy level. As he began listening, Bodhi quieted some more. His head dropped to my shoulder. I held him tightly as I began dancing around the room.

My movements matched the force of his sobs. I moved quickly, rocking him with my arms enveloping him. As his eyes began to droop, I turned the volume down slightly and slowed my motion down as well. When he whimpered or moaned, I joined in, humming soothingly in his ear. My intent was to move all the energy out of his body through the movement and the sound.

Eventually Bodhi fell asleep even though he was still hiccup sobbing. I gently eased myself down onto our bed. As he lay on my chest, I cradled him close, patting and rubbing his back. His energy was winding down. I focused on breathing deeply and feeling my heart connect to his. He sighed.

He cuddled in closer. As I snuggled back, I remembered all the days of him sleeping on my chest as an infant. My heart swelled with love and appreciation. With the wildness gone, he was no longer pushing me away. Instead I could feel him relaxing into the comfort and security of knowing that I loved, accepted, and held him through his tantrum. I could feel his desire to sink, heal, and rejuvenate in the safe space that I had created. I melted into my little cub as he surrendered to me.

When I felt the last big shuddery sigh pass through him, I rolled him off my chest and snuck downstairs. I managed to eat a little lunch and check an email or two off my list before I heard his wail. I climbed back upstairs to find him sitting up in bed, eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming down his cheeks.

I gathered him up into my arms once more. After a few more squirms, I was able to rock and rub him back to sleep. Then, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of closeness between us, I drifted off too. And both of us let out a huge sigh of relief.

While there is no formula for navigating a toddler’s tantrum, here is what I found to be helpful:

1. Acknowledge what you are feeling. Breathe. Do your best to let this feeling pass through you. (If you are in public, do your best to let go of any horror you may feel.  Ignore the stares and focus on yourself and your child.)
2. Detach from whatever else you might hope to accomplish.
3. Create a safe space for them. Make sure they can’t harm themselves or others, or lastly objects. Refrain from trying to hold or contain your child when the initial wave of energy hits.
4. Notice your thoughts or judgments. Thank them for revealing themselves and let them pass on by.
5. Sit on the ground near your toddler. Connect to a calm, grounded energy by breathing deeply. Your energy and presence will set the tone.
6. When you notice the intensity of their energy lessen, try picking your child up. (If they protest strongly, put them back down and try again in a few minutes.)
7. If possible, turn on soothing music or a favorite story on CD. Have the volume match the intensity of their sobs, gradually turning it down as they do.
8. Dance, rock, sway, pat, their backs. Move with them and this will help move the energy through them. Slow down your movements as their energy calms. Another trick: let them bang on pillows or drums.
9. Keep breathing deeply! Model connecting to your breath. Visualize a calm connection between your heart and theirs.
10. After the tantrum has passed, review possible causes as a way of helping prevent tantrums in the future (not as a way to judge yourself!)

Parenting mindfully and consciously through a toddler tantrum is quite a wild ride. In fact parenting a child of any age that is going through big emotion can be challenging. (These suggestions can be helpful for older children as well.) Yet with some awareness and grace, we’ll all make it through the squalls. And maybe, we’ll even come out the other side with more understanding, compassion, and closeness.

As always, please report in!

The women who appeared on the call were amazing (even if we don’t see ourselves in this light). We represented a wide range of experiences and held so much desire to both mother authentically and continue to discover our own path of caring for and nurturing our own dreams and purpose in life.

We had mamas of 5 month olds and mamas with 5 children, single moms and married moms. There were first time mamas and grandmammas – not to mention mamas of twins, toddlers, and teens (some of both little ones and grown adults). Our children were awake and babbling in the background, nursing, sleeping soundly, or out on their own with friends. Some of us have chosen to be stay at home moms, some of us work full time, and some of us go ½ and ½. Many of us are teachers, self-employed entrepreneurs, or a combo of both. We shared a love of dancing, yoga, and being outdoors. We are a diverse group and yet there was an instant unity amongst us.

As we shared our intent for ourselves and the group, I was struck by the themes that were echoed by all. We desire: a community of support and respect for whatever choices we make, time for ourselves to refill and rejuvenate, a sense of balance between mothering and expressing ourselves creatively or professionally, and ways to be more mindful of how we nurture our children. We spoke of feeling overwhelmed, feeling judged (or judging ourselves), feeling alone or without a strong support network. And despite its challenges, all of us seemed to share an overwhelming love of our children and of being a mom.

As we slipped into our meditation for the evening, we connected with our heart’s desire. We turned our attention inward to listen to the messages that came from our heart. These messages usually come in the form of a feeling or image. Sometimes it appears as what we do not want. And when we listen to the frustration or sadness or overwhelm, we can see beyond and underneath these emotions. These “uncomfortable” emotions are sending a flare from our inner knowingness, our intuition, our wise woman within to make an adjustment within our thoughts or actions that will better support ourselves and our dreams.

As we spoke what we most craved for our lives right now, I could feel how each of us touched and tasted the emotional quality we most wanted during our time in silence. And I know if we felt it even for a few moments together, then we can continue to find ways to manifest the qualities such as focus or connection to higher self or being more present throughout the next days and month even in the midst of our full lives.

My heart called for a clarity, certainty, and “knowingness” of how I wish to express myself in the outer world. I am so grateful that I have already found one way to do so and it is in the midst of a group of women who I am honored and delighted to spend time with. What joy!

Our group will remain open for the next few months for any woman who wishes to join. So with a very full heart I send this invitation out along with my many thanks for what has already appeared. Our next call is hosted by Meghan McChesney Gilroy of Life Mastery Programs on Wednesday, July 22^nd from 8-9PM EST. Call 218-486-1600 and enter access code 920454.Please RSVP to Meghan@lifemasteryprograms.com

In it, Po shares how we can most effectively praise our children. Surprisingly, the way most of us tend to cheer our children on may not result in the self-esteem boost or encouragement we intend. In fact – it might just do the opposite: cause our kids to put in less effort with less results.

I highly recommend reading his article for the details… The short version is: sincere, specific praise on a child’s effort has been proven to be more successful on praising a child on their smarts. In other words, “Good job! I’m proud of you.” and “Aren’t you smart!” just don’t cut it.

I know for myself that when I chirp out “Good job!” without really paying attention to what Bodhi is doing or showing me, it certainly feels hollow. Since he’s a perceptive critter, I know on some level this must also be true for him. So when I take the time to remember what I want to foster in and with Bodhi – connection, creativity, curiosity, inner confidence – and match my praise to my intent, it feels genuine and I see him light up more than when I dole out mindless kudos.

As I was contemplating how to help myself give up my automatic way of praising him (the comments that fall into the “Great job, good work!” category) and move toward the sincere, specific praise on effort category, I remembered the guidelines we used to use when I taught at Inner-City Arts (an amazing non-profit art center for inner-city children in LA).

Instead of telling a child, “I like your drawing,” we would both ask questions and point out what we specifically noticed without giving an opinion. For example, I might say, “I’ve never seen that color before. It looks like you invented a brand new color. What name could you make up for that?” or “I noticed that you used several different shapes in your picture – a triangle, circle, and rectangle.” Or simply, “Tell me more about what you made.”

When we shift to truly paying attention and engaging a child in this way, we are showing that we care. We are inherently praising them without telling them that their work is “good” or “bad.” We are allowing them to determine what works for them creatively, allowing their self-expression to be sufficient in itself, instead of in relation to what the outside world thinks. We’re modeling curiosity. We are letting them develop their ability to communicate about their process. And we were matching our mission at the Center – encouraging connection, creativity, curiosity, inner confidence (as well as language development and a host of others) – that mirror my wishes for Bodhi.

So I’ve developed these guidelines to help me reduce my dependency on the easy praise and increase my usage of the more meaningful ones:

1. Remember my intent: mindfully parenting to foster connection, creativity, curiosity, inner confidence

2. When I catch myself saying, “Good job!” add on a more specific comment at the end.

3. When I notice another adult giving non-specific praise, asking myself to (silently!) come up with a way I could sincerely and specifically praise the child’s effort. (This is a way of practicing for myself – not a way to judge other people.)

4. Stockpiling a few phrases to get me started that focus on effort such as, “I see you really concentrating. That took some (effort/patience/creativity) and you stuck with it. You really listened carefully. I appreciate that you keep trying.”

5. Paying attention and slowing down. If Bodhi calls out “Look at me!” on the playground, I really do look.

6. Using the phase “I am noticing…” or “I see…” followed by a neutral description of his actions. For example, “I see you balancing by carefully placing one foot in front of another.”

7. Asking more questions to Bo: “What are you feeling? Thinking? Noticing?”

At the end of the article, Po writes about his need to praise his child. As anxious modern parents, we want to do the best for our children and often don’t know how. He writes that he has shifted the way he praises his son and yet, “I recognized that praising him with the universal “You’re great-I’m proud of you” was a way I expressed unconditional love… [W]e want them to hear, We are in your corner, we are here for you, we believe in you.”

Perhaps the answer to the dilemma lies in us putting our unconditional love into words: remembering to tell our children that we are in their corner and we are here for them when they’ve done nothing at all or at random moments – just because we do and we can. Then we can also work on shifting our praise to be more conscious, and more effective, and create good vibes for both ourselves and our kids.

Test it out and let me know what you think!

And if you’d like a true confession? Secretly I’d been hoping this would happen.

Every Thursday, Bodhi and I go to school (a Mommy-and-Me kind of class) and one of the activities is making bread. We sing as sweet little song as we do so, “We mix the dough, we knead the dough, we let it rise…” While all the other children (girls!), mix and knead and roll, Bodhi eats the raw dough.

I have tried many tactics to dissuade him of this habit: I’ve focused more energy on the times he does shape the dough, we’ve talked about how yummy the bread is once it’s baked, I’ve taken away the raw dough, I’ve ignored the raw dough eating, the teacher has tried distracting him with more flour. And of course I have pointed out that too much raw dough isn’t good for your belly.

As you can guess, Bodhi eats the raw dough. And for most of the year, there was no problem with the belly/no other real consequences. When I reported Bodhi’s raw dough eating habits to Jamie, he not-so-helpfully grinned and pointed out that it must be genetic. Apparently he has a love of eating raw dough that stems from his days as a baker. Hmmm. Never knew that about you honey. Thankfully Bodhi has never seen him do so, so at least that eliminates the imitation rationalization.

Until this Thursday, I had decided to let it go. This wasn’t a battle worth picking. And I reminded myself every time my jaw clenched as Bodhi popped another piece into his mouth, that I am a big believer in allowing children to discover the results of their choices themselves (within the strong boundaries of what is safe and age-appropriate). Jamie and I like to say (as one of our tenets of Mindful Parenting ), let children make their own choices, even if it’s not the choice we would make, until it is evident that they cannot make a good choice for themselves.

All of this set in motion the mess of the day – and the learning experience. As you probably know, most of us learn best from experience. We can be told the consequences of our actions and have some intellectual understanding (this is called knowledge) or we can experience the consequences of our actions and then absorb the learning on a physical, emotional, spiritual and/or mental level (this is called wisdom). Bodhi now has the building blocks needed to make the connection between eating too much raw dough and not feeling so good. We’ve talked this through and re-enacted what happens with his puppets to reinforce the wisdom.

Of course I never wanted Bodhi to have to experience vomiting to gather wisdom. But I do think giving him the freedom to discover how his body responds to his choices supports his unique path of self-discovery in life and will ultimately help him care for himself better than me telling him what does or doesn’t work according to my unique experiences.

In addition to Bodhi’s life lesson, I’ve gained the wisdom to be a more conscious parent. I see that this is a situation where I will need to step in to make a better choice for him if Bodhi doesn’t modify his actions. I “suffered” the natural consequences (having to clean it up!) of allowing him to eat the dough as well. Now let’s see what happens at school next Thursday.