Last night, about an hour before bedtime, we told Gutsy he couldn't play anymore Lego Star Wars.
You'd think we just took away his only water supply.
The middle gremlin threw an absolute fit which involved all of these things happening at least once, some of them simultaneously:
- tears of rage
- flailing limbs
- jumping up and down on a chair
- threats
- screams
- declarations of 'It's not fair!'
- flying ottomans
Time passes differently when your child is throwing a tantrum. What seems like the longest hour of one's lifetime might only be 10 minutes. However, when the tantrum-throwing tot is quickly jumping from one destructive activity to the next, an hour can easily fly by before you know it. I'd like to say something Star Trek chique like 'it disrupts the space time continuum,' but unfortunately I'm geeky enough to know what that term means and that it doesn't apply. I am sad.
'Is this what we're supposed to do?' asked a skeptical Geekster. 'Just sit here?'
According to the seminar I attended on Monday night, absolutely.
I'm part of the Special Education Advisory Committee at our local school board. We meet every couple of months to discuss issues concerning special needs kids like Gutsy and Intrepid (who are both hearing impaired). A side benefit to attending these meetings - other than the complimentary treats and coffee, of course - is that we get some very interesting speakers from time to time. Little did I know, however, that this particular seminar, given by psychologist Eva de Gosztonyi and based on the work of Dr. Gordon Neufield, author of Hold On To Your Kids - would completely change the way I parent.
I'm going to admit something awful, so brace yourselves: Lately, I've been resenting Gutsy's behavior a lot, and I was feeling like I couldn't get beyond it to reconnect with him. The tantrums were a chasm widening daily, leaving he on one side and I on the other. It was breaking my heart, as this is the boy we tried for years to conceive; who I nursed for three years; who I love fiercely. But try as I might, I was putting a wall up to protect myself from his continuous outbursts. There's only so much any person can take, even a mom, and I was shutting down. I hated myself for it. I hate admitting it, even now. But that's the honest truth.
Then I went to this seminar, and suddenly everything made sense. It made so much sense, in fact, that I need to share it with all of you. I obviously can't explain every little detail or I'd be re-writing Dr. Neufield's book, but I'll give you my interpretation of what I learned:
There's a part of the brain called the frontal lobe. It helps us manage frustration, impulse control, and all that other tantrum-related stuff. This is the last part to develop, and the one that takes the longest to finish. In fact, research shows it doesn't start developing until 5 or 6, and isn't fully developed in the average human until the age of 25 (traumatic emotional events and neurological conditions can delay development).
This explains a lot of the stupid drama I got myself into as a teenager and young adult. Just sayin'.
Before the age of about 5, children can only process one thought at a time. That's why kids flip so easily from happy to frustrated to angry to sad to back to happy again. It's one thought after the next with no overlap. It also means they get hyper-focused on one thing. For example, when I tell Spawnling he can't have a cookie and he freaks the hell out, that's because he's unable to think of anything other than the cookie and how much he wants it. It also explains why distraction can work so well on little kids. With a little distraction, they'll often forget the ever-important cookie as quickly as they thought of it.
Now, if only I could get that distracted when I want a cookie...
A tantrum happens when a child becomes frustrated and can't yet process or accept that things will not go their way. Until that acceptance happens, they run the chance of becoming completely emotionally overwhelmed. When Gutsy wanted to launch Mr. Ottaman through the flat screen, his little noggin was effectively running around and around in a circle, unable to find the exit. Very likely, he was thinking 'Mom and Dad won't let me play my favourite game and I really want to play it and it's just not fair and why won't they let me and how can I make them let me?' over and over and over again. He was hyper-focused on one thing, and until he could accept that he would not get to play Lego Star Wars, he would not regain control.
While stuck in that thought process, all sorts of chemicals and stress hormones are raging through the body. Things like cortisol and adrenaline. These can impede judgment, but serve us well later in life when we have contract deadlines looming (believe me, I know) or when our toddler is heading for the busy road and we run like we've never run before. They're useful, but also a challenge to deal with when little gremlins are feeling foul.
Eventually, acceptance will come and Gutsy will realize he can't play his game, and Spawnling will realize he can't have a cookie right now. Sometimes it comes after one foot stomp, sometimes after a two hour blow up. But when it does come, change will happen.
All those stress chemicals racing around the system become toxins that need to be purged. Crying happens after a tantrum because those toxins are being released. When tears come, this is a good thing; the brain is switching into a more problem-solving mode. Now is the time to hold and console your child, and let them know it's okay. It's also when you can start talking about what just happened.
Here is what not to do during a tantrum. I will highlight in red the wrongs I've been committing:
- Do not start yelling. It creates more stress and makes the problem worse.
- Do not threaten to take away things that matter to the child. Again, this creates more stress.
- Do not remove your child to another location ("time out") unless they're at risk of harming themselves or others, or because you need a break from the situation to compose yourself. Kids have a way of making everything about them and will assume you don't love them unless they do exactly what you want.
- Do not assume they're trying to manipulate you with their threats and ultimatums. They're simply very overwhelmed and don't know what else to do.
Here's what to do during a tantrum:
- Be present for your child. You don't have to sit there and watch the whole tantrum, but stay close enough that they know you're there for them no matter what. That helps them feel safe and get to the tears/problem-solving stage faster.
- Be both compassionate and firm at the same time. Set boundaries but be gentle. For example, we empathized with Gutsy's frustration over not being able to get what he wanted, but we also held firm to our decision.
- Make sure things don't get broken. (I added in this one - it was not in the seminar. Just a handy-dandy Maven word of experience) We quickly stopped Gutsy from throwing things so no one or nothing got hurt.
- If there are two parents present, it's okay to tag team and take a break, especially if you're feeling overwhelmed.
- Tell your child that you understand they're frustrated and empathize with their feelings.
- When the tears come, gently help your child problem-solve and come up with other ways of expressing frustration and working through it.
The simple answer, she said, is that Gutsy uses what little frontal lobe control he has when he's at school, on playdates, at grandma's house, and melts down the minute he gets home because he's emotionally exhausted; he's given it his all for an entire day and he simply can't do it anymore. She also said that a child who tantrums around their parents is one that feels very safe and attached. Basically, it's a compliment.
So, ear-piercing screaming + ottoman launching = awesome parenting. Great, I think.
In the end, I learned that there is no way to accelerate frontal lobe development. (Damn.) All we can do is provide a safe and loving environment for our children and do our best not to exacerbate the tantrums by adding more stress to the mix. She also mentioned that for little brains, being able to come home right after school is ideal, as it allows the child to switch off and rest. In our society we expect so much of our kids: full-time school, part-time daycare, lots of after-school and weekend activities. Their brains almost never get a chance to recharge.
I have to say, with all the financial stress we've been under lately, it really validated my decision to stay home and keep after-school activities to a minimum. Heck, the gremlins tantrum enough as it is. They have a frightening lack of frontal lobe action going on. Thinking about what they'd be like if they were scheduled even more makes my eyelid twitch.
Anyway, that's about all there is to that. We need to stop expecting our kids to be little adults and allow them the time they need to mature naturally.
Last night's tantrum took about 20 minutes, I'd say. We were happily playing actual Lego within short order, and bedtime was a breeze. When I compare this to the usual butting heads, multiple time-outs and utter screamfests, this was progress. We'll see how things go from here, but I'd say we're off to a pretty good start.
And the best news? I have a better understanding of why Gutsy behaves the way he does, and I don't resent him for it. It's not his fault, he's not trying to make this difficult, he's not trying to manipulate me. This week has been spent bridging that chasm, and figuring out how I need to change, not how he needs to.
After thirteen years, I still haven't figured out this parenting thing. Leave it to the gremlins to remind me how imperfect I am.
Hot, mind you, but imperfect.