The scene was bleak. It was a few years ago, but like so many of the maddening moments of parenthood, it stuck. My eldest daughter, who was four at the time, was in the backseat of our car, whining and wailing because we had forgotten her Barbie doll at home when we left for her ballet class. I was not altogether surprised that we had forgotten her Barbie doll; when you run around trying to pull your act together at the last minute, as I so often do, you get used to things being left behind.
I’d like to point out that I reminded Maddy to bring her doll about fifty-seven times. At the time, it seemed reasonable to blame the misfortune on her, but looking back, I’m not so sure my expectations were particularly fair. She had been on the planet for only four years, after all, and she was distracted by a Care Bears movie on the television. I know now, after a few more years of parenting, that I cannot effectively communicate with my children–or with adults, for that matter–unless we are in an environment free of distraction. It’s not entirely sensible to reprimand them for not listening if their attention is diverted from our conversation.
Anyway, even though we were within a mile of our house, there was no way in hell I was going to turn around. We were running late, and this was the natural result of my disorganization and priorities; I had slept in, borrowing precious time from the hour I had to prepare for ballet, and I had delegated too much responsibility to Maddy. It was as simple as that. I tried to explain to Maddy that I understood her disappointment, but that we were not going to go home and retrieve her doll. The ensuing fuss was startling in its intensity, and I couldn’t figure out what to do. I tried ignoring her, but that only exasperated her tantrum. I tried clarifying my reasons to her, but my explanation fell on deaf ears (made so, no doubt, by the volume of her shrieks and protests). Finally, at my wit’s end, I said, “You know what? This seems like an excellent time to practice being mad. I’m really good at being mad. Watch me.”
And then I screamed.
I am so angry!
I am so furious right now!
I want my barbie!
You are the worst mommy in the world!
This whole situation stinks!
Wide-eyed, Maddy dissolved into giggles.
Encouraged, I shook my fists in the air. I grabbed a hold of the steering wheel and threw my body around the driver’s seat in protest, all the while continuing to shout and screech about the unfairness of the universe.
The tension broken, and I said: go ahead! Try it! And she did. She let me and the world have it, and we both had a fun time for the rest of the drive AND she more or less got over herself.
What we want more than anything is to be understood and to have our feelings and experiences validated by the people we love.
We have little to no control over our emotions, and rather than judge or dismiss them, we need to acknowledge them in ourselves and others. If the Barbie episode is any indication, the opportunity to freely and safely express frustration and disappointment is often all we need. Indeed, when I think back on the times that I have patiently listened to someone air their grievances instead of defending myself or antagonizing them further, the outcome has invariably been more satisfactory for all parties involved.
Now, I model being mad, teaching my daughters how to communicate their feelings in a constructive manner. When I’m furious, I ask myself: why am I angry? Unless I can begin to identify and articulate the problem, I can’t begin to solve it with them. So I try to teach them to become clear on their feelings by getting curious about them, which calms everybody down. The feelings are less scary and overwhelming, and the girls become more available to talk through conflict. In turn, they feel proud and awesome that they’re able to communicate in ways that help them to reconcile their relationships rather than recoil from them.
To connect with others, we need to encourage openness and vulnerability.
Children are the most open and vulnerable people in the world, and how we treat their feelings is a determining factor in whether they’ll be able to experience emotional intimacy with others. They need to be heard, and we need to try to listen and decode what they are saying. We need to embrace dialogue, to implicitly send the message that we respect them by inviting them to talk, to tell us more, to ask them how they think their feelings or their conflicts could best be resolved. Admittedly, it’s not always easy to make the time for meaningful, productive communication, but I try to come back around to it. As a result, we’re building trust; they know they can be candid with me, and that I will be candid with them, and that our relationship will be the better for it.
By the way, the day of the Barbie debacle, I arrived at Maddy’s ballet class only to discover that I’d left her ballet slippers at home. I could tell you how the ensuing conversation went…but that’s another story for another time!