I am pretty good at manipulating my children. I know what levers to use to get them to do what I want them to do. Sometimes this is necessary. Sometimes I have to manipulate the kids for their own safety or wellbeing. I have to manipulate them into eating healthy food when they would much rather eat candy. I have to maneuver them into bed when they want to stay up all night. Manipulation is part of the parenting package and I’m pretty good at it. BUT there are times where I need to back off and not manipulate my kids. If I over use the manipulation tool it may break when I truly need it. Also there are times when I want to manipulate my children not for their good or for my sanity, but for my convenience. My convenience is a misuse of the manipulation tool.
Today is a good example. Last night we attended a Halloween party. During the party Kiki collected a whole plate of cookies and brought them to our table with strict instructions that no one touch them. When the party was over, Kiki walked home leaving the cookies behind. I assumed that they were then abandoned. I loaded Patches’ cupcakes on top of the cookies and brought them all home. This morning Gleek was rousting me out of bed to get out her candy. I didn’t want to get out of bed and I didn’t really want her to have candy. But I remembered that the plate of cookies and cupcakes was sitting on the counter. I told Gleek to get something off the plate. Patches joined her and the two had a feast. Then Kiki arrived downstairs and saw that there were no whole cookies left. She was furious because they were her cookies. I explained my thought pattern. It didn’t make her feel any better. She ate breakfast and then locked herself into her room. When I knocked on the door the only response I got was a shouted “Leave me alone!”
My plan for this morning was another housework scavenger hunt. The house has been a wreck and it needs to be cleaned. Kiki locking herself into her room interfered with my plan. I considered that locked door. I knew I had levers that could get Kiki out of her room and cleaning. Some of them are blunt force (“I don’t care how mad you are, you will clean now!”) Some of them are more subtle (Sending Howard in to tell Kiki what an awful day I had yesterday and how tired I was this morning, thus triggering Kiki’s nurturing side and making her ready to be friends again.) I sat at the kitchen counter and considered my options. I remembered all the times that my parents manipulated me. I’m sure they did it more than I realized because as human beings we all manipulate each other constantly. But I specifically remember the times where I saw the manipulation and it worked anyway. I remember how mad and helpless it made me feel. Now I am in the position of the parent. I will inevitably do something similar at some point, I probably already have without realizing it. But I had a choice, today I was paying attention. If I manipulated her today, it would be to make her comply with my plan for the day. My plan had us all happily scrambling to get the work done as fast as possible. I realized that while the work is necessary, there is all day for her to do it. She knows what her assignments are, she knows that she can’t watch TV, play video games, or play with friends until the work is done. I realized that I need to allow her to do the work in her own way and on her own plan rather than manipulating her to follow my script. I realized that I need to let her be mad at me. If I made apologetic overtures, they needed to be focused on healing the hurt feelings not a toe in the door to get her to do what I wanted her to do.
I wrote Kiki a note. I apologized for giving away the cookies. I did not justify this by claiming that I felt she had abandoned them or that I’d done the work to bring them home. I just said I was sorry for doing something that made her angry/sad. I asked her to forgive me. Then I offered to help her make up a whole batch of cookies with a chocolate cookie recipe off of the internet. I put the note under her door. When the note disappeared, part of me wanted to knock on the door. Did she like the note? Did she forgive me? Would we be making cookies? Was she still mad at me? Was she in the room fuming about what an awful mother I was? I had no cues, just a closed and locked door. I wanted to hover. I wanted to know.
When Kiki is upset, she needs space. It is often hard for me to give her that space. There is something inside me that is driven to make things right. We get caught up in emotion and I find myself hounding her to make sure that she sees things my way. I am driven to make sure that I’ve told her all of my justifications. She feels cornered and increasingly upset. She lashes out to make me go away, but I pursue to make sure she understands. Why is it so hard for me to give her the space she screams for? Why can I not remember in the heat of the moment that I can’t MAKE her think or feel the way I want her to? I somehow need to find the courage to walk away and trust that she will wend her own path toward calmness. I need to trust that she is not villainizing me in her mind. I need to trust that she is not tearing herself down and blaming herself. I need to trust her to be the strong person that I know she can be. Today I managed all that. Today I walked away from the door. I still don’t know how the cookie note went over. I don’t think she is still mad, but she could be. Today I just have to let it go and trust Kiki to find her own solutions. She finds good ones so often. Many times her solutions are better than mine. I have to let go. I know this. Why is it so hard?
*Hugs*
This is uncharted territory, of sorts. For both of you. I’m going to just throw out a few thoughts and hopefully not make things worse or sound like a radio-show host …
When they are toddling across the room and you let them go, you can still see what is going on. You can still leap in and prevent the fall, clear the path, guide them around the obstacles. And, being able to see, you are still involved and able to participate, even if only by watching with a glowing pride and joy. Similar to removing training wheels on a bike, even if they hit the ground and cry after you’ve let them go, you know what went wrong immediately and are right there to wave the mommy-wand and fix it.
When the growth, the action is inside the other’s head, you can’t always see the obstacles they are about to hit, the wrong turns they may make. You don’t even have the reassurance they came to the “right” conclusion and place — only the outward appearance. They’re blundering around in unfamiliar territory and you’re not there to clear the way or even to know where they are.
It’s a hallmark of love, and of motherly love in particular, to want to try and spare others unnecessary pain.
*Hugs*
This is uncharted territory, of sorts. For both of you. I’m going to just throw out a few thoughts and hopefully not make things worse or sound like a radio-show host …
When they are toddling across the room and you let them go, you can still see what is going on. You can still leap in and prevent the fall, clear the path, guide them around the obstacles. And, being able to see, you are still involved and able to participate, even if only by watching with a glowing pride and joy. Similar to removing training wheels on a bike, even if they hit the ground and cry after you’ve let them go, you know what went wrong immediately and are right there to wave the mommy-wand and fix it.
When the growth, the action is inside the other’s head, you can’t always see the obstacles they are about to hit, the wrong turns they may make. You don’t even have the reassurance they came to the “right” conclusion and place — only the outward appearance. They’re blundering around in unfamiliar territory and you’re not there to clear the way or even to know where they are.
It’s a hallmark of love, and of motherly love in particular, to want to try and spare others unnecessary pain.
Because you love her.
Because you love her.
How did things turn out?
How did things turn out?
Kiki responded to my note with a note of her own. Only she cut her note into individual letters and I was supposed to unscramble them. She remained sequestered and grouchy for most of the day, but then came out and was cheerful. We did make cookies in the evening after her work was all done.
Kiki responded to my note with a note of her own. Only she cut her note into individual letters and I was supposed to unscramble them. She remained sequestered and grouchy for most of the day, but then came out and was cheerful. We did make cookies in the evening after her work was all done.
Thank you for this description, it gave me some very useful images for the process.
Thank you for this description, it gave me some very useful images for the process.
Hoping I’m not derailing your thought process here with one of my own, but I noticed the phrase:
I am driven to make sure that I’ve told her all of my justifications.
Whenever someone gives me justifications for their actions, it makes me more upset. I don’t know if Kiki is like that, but it’s an automatic trigger for angering me. It feels like I’m saying to someone, “You punched me in the face, and it hurt,” and their response is, “You needed to be punched, and I’ll probably do it again in similar circumstances.”
When I hear actions justified — actions that hurt me — I feel as if there is no acknowledgement that I have a right to feel hurt. In fact, I often specifically feel as though I’m being told that I’m not allowed to hurt, because the actions that hurt me are correct.
I’m not trying to pass judgment on either you or Kiki, but to let you know of a possible reaction she might be having — she probably can’t verbalize it, but it’s possible that when she hears a justification, it feels like she’s being told that her feelings don’t matter.
And obviously, I don’t know Kiki. I could be very wrong. Just food for thought, I guess.
Hoping I’m not derailing your thought process here with one of my own, but I noticed the phrase:
I am driven to make sure that I’ve told her all of my justifications.
Whenever someone gives me justifications for their actions, it makes me more upset. I don’t know if Kiki is like that, but it’s an automatic trigger for angering me. It feels like I’m saying to someone, “You punched me in the face, and it hurt,” and their response is, “You needed to be punched, and I’ll probably do it again in similar circumstances.”
When I hear actions justified — actions that hurt me — I feel as if there is no acknowledgement that I have a right to feel hurt. In fact, I often specifically feel as though I’m being told that I’m not allowed to hurt, because the actions that hurt me are correct.
I’m not trying to pass judgment on either you or Kiki, but to let you know of a possible reaction she might be having — she probably can’t verbalize it, but it’s possible that when she hears a justification, it feels like she’s being told that her feelings don’t matter.
And obviously, I don’t know Kiki. I could be very wrong. Just food for thought, I guess.
You are not wrong. You are exactly right. I can see it happening. I can see her anger growing and her turning away from my words. That’s why I used the word “driven.” When I am than angry/upset it is very hard for me to just shut up and walk away even when I know logically it is the right thing to do.
I think I’m fighting 10 years of mothering instincts. With a toddler I HAVE to stay. I have to keep at the child to make sure that the child is safe and no damage is done. Kiki is no longer a child, she is headed into teenagerhood and I have to back off and give her more space. A small child needs to be shown why the consequences played out the way they did. Kiki is now old enough to make her own observations and come to her own conclusions. The hard part is that I have no guarantee that the conclusions she arrives at will be the ones I want her to reach.
You are not wrong. You are exactly right. I can see it happening. I can see her anger growing and her turning away from my words. That’s why I used the word “driven.” When I am than angry/upset it is very hard for me to just shut up and walk away even when I know logically it is the right thing to do.
I think I’m fighting 10 years of mothering instincts. With a toddler I HAVE to stay. I have to keep at the child to make sure that the child is safe and no damage is done. Kiki is no longer a child, she is headed into teenagerhood and I have to back off and give her more space. A small child needs to be shown why the consequences played out the way they did. Kiki is now old enough to make her own observations and come to her own conclusions. The hard part is that I have no guarantee that the conclusions she arrives at will be the ones I want her to reach.
As always, I deeply admire your commitment to parenting. I think the hardest thing my parents ever had to deal with was realizing that occasionally they’d have to decide that it was okay for us (my brother, my sister, and me) to reach conclusions that they didn’t want us to reach.
It was actually a shock to me when I learned that we, as children, were more important to them than their expectations of us — that nothing we could do would make them love us less, even if we blatantly went against everything they stood for. (They might not like us as much, but then I don’t always like them either… even though I love them.)
As always, I deeply admire your commitment to parenting. I think the hardest thing my parents ever had to deal with was realizing that occasionally they’d have to decide that it was okay for us (my brother, my sister, and me) to reach conclusions that they didn’t want us to reach.
It was actually a shock to me when I learned that we, as children, were more important to them than their expectations of us — that nothing we could do would make them love us less, even if we blatantly went against everything they stood for. (They might not like us as much, but then I don’t always like them either… even though I love them.)
Sounds like good practice for when she’s an actual teenager and when she goes out on her own later on…
SoccerGirl already gets mad at us and runs to her room and slams her door… 4 going on 14. (perhaps good practice for me for when she becomes an actual teenager. 🙂
Teenagerhood scares me. But, I am trying to let kids have agency and make decisions and help them understand consequences and be there for them… what more can I do? Just do better than my own parents.
Good job backing off. It’s incredibly difficult. But you did it!
Sounds like good practice for when she’s an actual teenager and when she goes out on her own later on…
SoccerGirl already gets mad at us and runs to her room and slams her door… 4 going on 14. (perhaps good practice for me for when she becomes an actual teenager. 🙂
Teenagerhood scares me. But, I am trying to let kids have agency and make decisions and help them understand consequences and be there for them… what more can I do? Just do better than my own parents.
Good job backing off. It’s incredibly difficult. But you did it!
Not that I’m in any position to speak up (I’ve only the one, and he’s not 10 yet. 🙂 but have you considered explaining the “toddler-watching” instincts to Kiki?
Admittedly I’m not sure how best to approach such a subject without causing trouble, but it’s something to think about, perhaps?
Watching your family grow leads me to wonder just how well I’m going to think I’ve done, when mine reaches maturity…
Not that I’m in any position to speak up (I’ve only the one, and he’s not 10 yet. 🙂 but have you considered explaining the “toddler-watching” instincts to Kiki?
Admittedly I’m not sure how best to approach such a subject without causing trouble, but it’s something to think about, perhaps?
Watching your family grow leads me to wonder just how well I’m going to think I’ve done, when mine reaches maturity…
Yes that kind of discussion is exceptionally helpful. Kiki and I have many discussions like that in calm moments. Calm moments are the times when I can really tell my reasons and explain myself. Calm moments are when she’ll actually listen without feeling attacked. Calm moments are when I can really listen to her and be amazed at the mature thoughts that fill her head.
That’s why I get so mad at myself when I hound her while we’re both upset. I should know better. I should know that there will be a much better time to really discuss the things I’m angrily trying to force into her head. In a confrontation like that, at least half of my anger is pointed at myself for not handling the situation better.
Yes that kind of discussion is exceptionally helpful. Kiki and I have many discussions like that in calm moments. Calm moments are the times when I can really tell my reasons and explain myself. Calm moments are when she’ll actually listen without feeling attacked. Calm moments are when I can really listen to her and be amazed at the mature thoughts that fill her head.
That’s why I get so mad at myself when I hound her while we’re both upset. I should know better. I should know that there will be a much better time to really discuss the things I’m angrily trying to force into her head. In a confrontation like that, at least half of my anger is pointed at myself for not handling the situation better.