We do not raise children to go out into the world and be perfect and build perfect relationships with perfect people. That would be impossible. We raise children to be good enough to build good enough relationships with other good enough people. Therefore, good parents are, by definition, not perfect. It’s our imperfections — deftly handled — that will help our children to grow up and handle other people’s imperfections with compassion, understanding and good boundaries.
With that in mind, these are some of the pervading myths of good parents.
Myth: Good Parents Don’t Get Angry.
Actually good parents do get angry. Sometimes they even yell and stomp around. But good parents work hard to manage their anger appropriately, apologize when they handle it inappropriately and work to get help if their anger feels out of control or truly scary. Good parents need to know that their children are going to deal with people who get angry (otherwise known as: everybody) for their entire lives. They also know that their children are learning how to handle their own anger so they learn to see the everyday challenges of living as learning opportunities for all of us.
Myth: Good Parents Always Enjoy Their Kids.
No. they don’t because the children of good parents are not always enjoyable. ‘Nuff said.
Myth: Good Parents Have it All Figured Out.
Actually good parents get that this parenting thing is a process and it’s changing all the dang time as kids move from one developmental stage to another. Good parents may feel great about parenting a 3-year old and absolutely lousy about parenting a 13-year old or vice versa because those are totally different kinds of parenting, which take a totally different skill set. Good parents get help (books, friends, therapists) when they feel stuck and most good parents will eventually feel stuck because parenting is hard.
Myth: Good Parents are Fair.
Nope, good parents try to be just but they are not always strictly fair. That might mean different bedtimes, different chore expectations or different privileges for different kids. Sure, sometimes good parents take the easy way out and just buy everyone the same pack of gum — no arguing! — and other times they wearily wade into explaining yet again that just because your sister gets to go to a birthday party doesn’t mean that you get to go to Kroger’s to pick out a cupcake. Good parents learn to withstand tears and sorrow with sympathy but without giving in. Sometimes they don’t because, remember, good parents are imperfect.
Myth: Good Parents are Patient.
In fact, sometimes good parents are patient and sometimes they’re not. Sometimes good parents don’t have the energy to be patient or they’re having bad days. Good parents learn to bring this experience to build empathy with their own impatient kids.
Myth: Good Parents Have Clean Houses, Lots of Home-Cooked Meals and Amazing Holiday Traditions.
Ummm, sometimes? Sometimes not. Good parents do some things really well and other things not so great. Good parents may be terrific softball coaches with filthy kitchens. Good parents may know how to make a mean pot roast but can’t make cookies to save their lives. Good parents don’t always remember to buy pumpkins in time for Halloween or advent calendars in time for Christmas. Good parents don’t always have money for the tooth fairy. Good parents sometimes don’t notice their kids have grown out of their tennis shoes until they notice them limping across the playground. Good parents forget to pack the diaper bag.
Myth: Good Parents are Confident.
Sure, sometimes good parents look at a parenting challenge and say smugly to themselves, “Yeah, I got this.” But lots of other times good parents lie in their beds wondering if that decision they made about homework or screen time or dessert was the right one after all. They work hard to model the great grand work of self improvement, understanding and relationships. They live complex lives that sometimes create challenges they hoped their children would never have to face — divorce or death or depression. They struggle and worry and fret. They move forward because they have to, not always because they’re sure.
Myth: Good Parents are Consistent.
This is one of the things every parenting book says: Be Consistent. And it’s true that consistency will save you a lot of trouble in the long run. If you always say no to the candy aisle in the grocery check out line your kid won’t necessarily stop asking (or whining) but they’ll learn that when you say no, you mean it, which will come in handy when they’re teenagers. But sometimes the candy seems like a good idea because you’ve got such a headache that you’ll say yes to anything to get them to shut up. Good parents sometimes make short term decisions just to cope because life is like that.
Myth: Good Parents are Born, Not Made.
No way. Most of us have to work hard — ongoing — to be good parents just like we have to work on our skills to do anything else well (play tennis, bake yeast breads, create killer TED-inspired presentations, etc.). Good parents sometimes get tired of all of the self-growth and effort that being a good parent takes, particularly when they look at the 2-year old wailing on the floor or contemplate the disaster-area of an 11-year old’s room or note that the 16-year old is missing curfew. Then those good parents reach out to friends for a night out or call a therapist for help or reread How to Talk So Kids Will Listen again. Sheesh, says the good parent to herself, when am I gonna get it? But the good parent keeps trying.
Do you want support in the hard work of parenting? Contact me. I’m a big fan of helping parents (and the kids who love them).
When my son was a toddler he went from wobbling baby I knew and adored to a stomping, glaring child I didn’t understand. My tried and true techniques quit working and more than once I carried his screaming self out of the store, the library and away from the park completely baffled by his behavior. I felt guilty for his behavior, I felt guilty because I didn’t know how to quit triggering his anger and I really felt guilty because I sure wasn’t liking him much.
It seemed like neither of us could do anything right.
“I’m a terrible parent,” I cried to my husband. “I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m ruining him.”
It was my first lesson in how developmental stages could hit both of us. I knew he was going to grow and change but I didn’t understand that I would have to grow and change with him. It was only when I was commiserating (i.e., crying on the phone) with a friend whose daughter was exactly one month younger that I realized that I’d become stagnant. I was still trying to parent a toddler and he was trying to grow into a kid.
Parenting is anything but stationary. Our kids are growing all of the time and sometimes it takes a crisis in the relationship for us to realize that it’s time to change things up. We can’t parent a preschooler like a toddler; we can’t parent a teen like a tween. Those parenting plateaus — where kids and parents are perfectly in sync — are temporary. They grow, we grow and then we all have to readjust to each other.
I have found in my own life and in the lives of the families I see that the greatest push-pull comes when kids are edging to greater independence and parents haven’t caught up with this new scenario. There are predictable developmental windows when it’s easy to lose track of each other — when toddlers learn that they’re separate from their parents; when teens start looking to peers instead of mom or dad. But it can happen in less volatile times, too. Maybe a child wants the training wheels off or wants to choose their own clothes or wants to be left alone with a project. What was welcomed as attentive parenting one day is all of a sudden perceived as overbearing and we don’t even know when we crossed the line.
I tell this story a lot so you may have heard it but right around this same time when my son and I were first knocking heads he got furious with me because I didn’t remember his dream. He was trying to tell me about it at breakfast and he was so angry that I couldn’t remember it for him. For me, that sums up those trying toddler-preschooler times; he wanted me to psychically keep track of his inner thoughts and feelings but he sure didn’t want to hold my hand when we were crossing the street. No wonder I was confused, right? This stuff is confusing.
It’s painful to grow up (and not just for kids). It’s hard to make sense of these mixed messages — the 13-year old who mouths off and rolls her eyes then tries to climb onto your lap, the teen who won’t let you into his room but who wants to tell you the entire plot of Homestuck and exactly what he thinks of it. How are we supposed to know?
The answer is that we can’t know until we run into that brick wall and realize that our parenting needs updating. Conflict is a sign that things need to change. Sometimes what needs to change is our parental expectation and behavior. Sometimes it’s our kids who are dragging us to the next stage while we’re still trying to hammer away at the way things used to be.
It’s hard. It’s frustrating. And it is often painful.
That first time was the worst. I really thought I’d broken him and that chaos and conflict were going to be a permanent reality. But we did work it out. I changed up my expectations, I built in more opportunities for him to feel independent and suddenly my sunshine son was back, both of us happy to be with each other again.
And after that I could recognize when the landscape was starting to change and knew to rewrite my map. Acclimating to the new terrain got a lot easier once I knew what to look for.
One of my most favorite things to do is help stuck parents because I’ve been there (boy howdy) and I know how hard it is. Hit me up if you’d like some support.
So you’ve decided your child needs counseling. How do you explain to them what counseling is and why they’re going?
1. Tell them that a counselor is a person who helps people who are feeling stuck.
Many children (and adults) who are in therapy believe that they — their inherent selves — are problematic. Lots of children (and adults) have already been through the wringer by the time they come see me and their self-esteem is suffering for it. They may be feeling like they are root of all of their family’s problems. They may think that the people who love them really hate them. They may believe that they are in someway defective and that’s why they’ve got to come and see me. What I emphasize is that counselors help people who are feeling stuck. If your child is anxious you can say, “A counselor helps kids who are feeling stuck in their worrying.” If your teen is depressed you can say, “We’re seeing a counselor who helps people who are feeling stuck in their depression.” If your middle grade child is raging you can say, “The counselor will be able to help us figure out how to help you get better at managing your anger.” After all, your child is NOT her worrying or her depression or her challenging behavior. Your child is a whole, complicated person who is struggling. Counselors help with the struggle; they help people get unstuck from the struggle.
2. Let them know that the counselor will help everyone in the family do a better job with each other.
If I’m working with a child then I’m also working with her parents. As I said, sometimes the children who see me think they are at the root of all of their family’s problems. Kids are naturally self-centered (it’s a developmentally appropriate part of growing up) and so the divorce, the fighting, the tension — they think it all comes back to them. And if it is their behavior driving the decision to get counseling then they’re partially right. But kids don’t exist in a vacuum and if a child is struggling then the parents surely are, too. Counseling is meant to help everybody, which means helping the child be her best self and helping the parent be his best parenting self, too.
3. Explain that they will get to set the pace.
Kids who come to see me don’t always want to talk to me. That’s fine. Being guarded with a new person — particularly a new person who’s been enlisted to help the child over a sensitive topic — is appropriate. We can play Uno, we can play with the kinetic sand, I can watch the child build block towers or create art or otherwise orient herself to our relationship. I do not make children talk to me and even most reluctant teens will come around if we have time and space to learn how to work together. (Note: Once we’ve established rapport I will push when pushing makes sense but at the beginning we take it slow.)
4. Don’t insinuate that therapy is a punishment.
If children get the idea that seeing a counselor is one step away from being sent to juvenile detention it makes it awfully hard to build rapport. It goes back to #1 up there; if people believe that only screwed up people go to counseling then the threat of counseling might get seen as a weapon. “If you don’t get it together I’m taking you to a therapist to get your head on straight!” Or to other people, “He’s gotten so bad that we’ve had to start seeing a counselor!” Ugh. Not a great message. Even if you’re feeling discouraged and even if you feel like counseling is your last ditch effort, please remember that coming to therapy is a really smart and positive move.
5. It’s OK to acknowledge the problems that got you there.
No, you don’t want to make your child feel like the problem. No, you don’t want to put the whole burden of change on her either. But you can be frank about why you’re going. Sometimes parents will say, “Is it all right to talk about his tantrums here? In front of him?” Yes, it is. After all, he’s the one having them and he knows they’re an issue, trust me. There are some topics that aren’t for tender ears (or at least aren’t until we’ve made them age appropriate) but getting the problem out into the open without judgment and in the spirit of moving forward is a good thing.
If you’re still not quite sure how to talk to your child about it, bring it up with the therapist you’ve chosen to work with your child.
Sometimes at the end of our first session, after my client has told me her story and outlined her struggle, she’ll end with, “I hope you can give me some advice so I know what to do.” Only I don’t usually give advice. I do sometimes when the problem is practical — like who to call for additional services or how a process works or I might make mention of a book a client might find helpful — but I never tell my clients what to do like I’m the Keeper Of All Things One Must Do. We might explore ways to do things and I might share research, give examples, or tell stories but I never say anything that sounds like, “Insert Tab A in Slot B and your problem will be solved.”
There are two reasons for this:
1. If I jump ahead sure that I know the answers I’m likely going to miss some crucial information. Most of us aren’t always reliable narrators because we’re usually juggling so much trying to make sense of our stories. It’s not uncommon for a client to come to me about Problem A and after a few sessions I learn that Problem A is actually Problem Z. Sometimes Problem A is a symptom of something else and we’ll only figure it out if I give the client enough room and she gives me enough trust for us to explore it together. If I leap in with answers it’s all too likely that I’m giving her answers to a problem that isn’t the one that needs attention.
2. You know that “give a man a fish and you’ve fed him for a day but teach a man to fish and you’ve fed him for a lifetime” saying? That’s got added resonance in therapy. When my clients come to me with a problem I know that we’re authoring a detective novel. We don’t want to just skip to the end; we want to record the whole journey so that my client gains skills that will let her be her own detective the next time she’s facing a similar challenge. I hope my clients come out of therapy with more than answers specific to this time; I want them to come out stronger and smarter so they’re ready for next time.
Richard Bromfield, PhD, in his book on play therapy, Playing for Real, writes, “[Therapists] lack of pleasure in watching a child do his own psychic crossword, their wanting to take it over, impedes the therapy process. A therapist who takes more joy in his own than the child’s insights sabotages a fundamental aspect of therapy: what the child discovers on her own is more personally meaningful than what the therapist figures out for her.”
Same goes for grown-ups.
It can be frustrating for my clients who are looking for a quick fix so part of my work is helping them see the value of big picture change, especially when it comes to parenting issues. It can take time before repetitive efforts start to sink in and really work. Helping orient my clients’ efforts in the bigger context of their lives and their personal values makes it easier to hang in there for the long haul and that happens when we work together.
So after reading that this new-to-me blogger read it, I picked up The Lives They Left Behind: Suitcases From a State Hospital Attic from my library. (Note, if you click the title it takes you to the NYT review and I pretty much agree with the review.)
While the authors spend a lot of time arguing that mental illness doesn’t exist — at least in the patients they’re writing about — they didn’t convince me. Still you don’t have to deny mental illness to understand intuitively that the way we treat (and treated) those who struggle with mental health issues is (and most decidedly was) wrong wrong wrong. I finished the book last night and it was a nice segue from the lecture I attended last night about crisis care. The people on the panel all work for Netcare, which is basically Central Ohio’s emergency room for people having a mental health crisis. People who are suicidal, homicidal or actively psychotic end up there and Netcare acts as a sort of triage to help them get back on their feet. It’s true crisis care and from what I can tell the counselors there act more like social workers. As they talked about their jobs and the (lack of) resources for their clients it was a reminder of what we faced at shelter in the mid-90s. Clearly things haven’t improved since then. There just aren’t enough services for people with mental illness and while I agree that tearing down the old mental health “hospitals” was a good decision on humanitarian grounds, sending the people who need help out into the community without support systems in place was a recipe for disaster.
(It would have been nice if the hospitals had been revamped to go back to their Quaker roots.)
When we were at shelter we’d lament that there was no place to send our mentally ill clients that would just protect them and nurture them and let them be as crazy as they wanted to be. Obviously active suicidal or homicidal ideation needs intervention but many of the clients we kicked out of shelter were no danger to themselves or others. They weren’t mean or scary or dangerous; they just heard voices or struggled with paranoid delusions. They didn’t want medication but they also weren’t able to function (i.e., get a job, secure housing) without it. Some of them were lovely, kind people who just couldn’t follow a case plan. That made them wrong for our short-term, solutions-focused shelter but it would have been lovely if there was more housing for them. There was a very little but no where near enough and the wait list was impossible.
I was thinking of that especially when I got to this passage in the book:
Hearing voices in itself is not a symptom of an illness, but is apparent in 2-3% of the population. One in three becomes a psychiatric patient — but two in three can cope well,” according to Marius Romme, emeritus professor at the University of Maastricht in The Netherlands, and one of the key researchers in this area. “The difference between patients hearing voices, and non-patients hearing voices, is their relationship with the voices. Those who never became patients accepted their voices and used them as advisor. … When you identify hearing voices with illness and try to kill the voices with neuroleptic medication, you just miss the personal problems that lay at the roots of hearing voices — and you will not help the person solving those problems. You just make a chronic patient.”
p. 53 of The Lives They Left Behind: Suitcases From a State Hospital Attic
The text goes on to say that most people who hear voices do so after a traumatic event — a triggering event — and that drugs are only effective in about 1/3 of the patients who receive them. It makes me wonder about helping people manage the voices differently and I’m going to look further into Dr. Romme to see if there is more about this. The text argues that if therapists address the underlying emotional event that triggered the voices that medication will not be needed at all and this may be true for some (if not all) so I’m going to look Dr. Romme up for that, too.
I’ve been mildly surprised by how many counseling theories deny that organic mental illness exists. I’m not talking like a philosophical discussion about how culture defines illness; I’m talking about how some theorists think mental illness is always an emotional disorder. I don’t buy that. I think cultural discussions are interesting (and necessary) but I think it’s pretty dang clear that some people have brains that make them unhappily mentally ill and that for those people the drugs that work effectively are a god send. There is a murky area though when we’re talking about patients’ rights and individual experience. When I think about some of our shelter clients and whether or not it was reasonable to expect them to conform in order to get food and shelter.
Also if you want to see the exhibit that the book is based on, here it is: The Willard Suitcase Exhibition