For Everything Else, There's $25

Yesterday we observed Tisha B'Av, the "saddest day" of the Jewish year. It is the culmination of 3 weeks of sadness, a remembrance of too many times in Jewish history that our people suffered, of the physical and spiritual void that we long to fill where our Holy Temple once stood, may it come to be rebuilt speedily in our days. I'm not a huge fan of sadness, planned or otherwise. Who is? And honestly, I found myself asking why we "need another 3 weeks to be sad this year?" Have we not experienced enough of this on a daily basis since the middle of March? And by yesterday, notably the "saddest day," as I fasted from a very horizontal position in my bed longing to eat anything not nailed to the wall, I was just content to be "done with it." To move on. To get back to normal life. Or at least laundry. 

Indeed, this pandemic has stretched on for 141 days now. But who's counting? I have been able to see so many silver linings to our days and hours and minutes. That is probably why I can write this from the comfort of my own home instead of a bed in a psychiatric ward. My family is healthy, thank G-d. We have what we need. We are able to work together and have flexibility to manage my husband working from home and everyone being here at the same time. My kids have each other. We have each other. We get to play. A lot. Maybe even enough. (Can you ever play enough?) And yet every day is laden with decisions we have to make. Decisions that should feel small but feel enormous. Who should go to the grocery store? Should we take the kids to a park for a walk if we all wear masks in 106 degree temperatures? Should we bring them in to see the pediatrician for their wellness checks or do it via telepractice? Should I wipe down the outside of the soap bottle I just bought or let it stay in the hot car for 24 hours? Should I wash my hands again, for the 6th time in 15 minutes because I did go to the grocery store and bring the bottle of soap in from the car? Yes, the answer to that is always yes. What should we do about school in the Fall? 

And that right there is my privilege speaking at full volume. That any of these things even are decisions to be made is an enormous luxury. That the extremely difficult decision we came to about our children and school in the Fall is one that hadn't been made for me or one that could even have more than one mystery door to open and walk through is a luxury we have that many many others do not. But I think I have decision fatigue (is that a thing?). I hate making decisions. I wanted to plant a garden this Spring and I couldn't decide what type of tomatoes to grow when I made a curbside pickup order at our local nursery. (There's my privilege speaking again.) So in the email I just said "four types of tomato plants, you pick.

I wonder why I didn't think to take this approach with the whole school in the Fall decision... "Can stay at home and distance learn, homeschool, school in person...you pick!" But at least the probable outcome with the tomato plants was four types of tomatoes (less probable when I'm the gardener but luck shone down on these little guys). The probable outcome of my children's educational experience, physical, social and mental health next year (and ours as well) is totally unknown. I don't love surprises. I'm learning to love them in small increments. But when I say that, I mean, I like "surprise, I got you a new book!" Or "Surprise! We're having waffles for dinner!"  Not "Surprise, that store you went to yesterday to pick up a tub of margarine is the last place outside of your house you will go to for the next 3 months" or "Surprise! You picked Mystery Door #2 and now your kid is ruined forever and will blame you in therapy for the next 30 years."

When I was growing up, my parents could fix just about anything. From a broken VCR to a skinned knee, from a teen-aged broken heart to a failed math test, my parents could fix it. There was a DIY book on the shelf for the VCR and when that didn't pan out, we got to have at it with screw drivers and a hammer. There were several types of band aids and topical ointments for the skinned knee and a kiss made everything better. There were real life examples of surviving the pain of unrequited teenaged love and a trip to the ice cream parlor to manage the interim. There was empathy and a tutor who smelled like Irish Spring soap and buttered popcorn to help with my math test. And then, sometimes, something would happen and my dad would just give us $25. That time I discovered I was eating my favorite animal in our Chinese takeout? $25. That time we got into a fight with a friend and came home crying? $25. That time he accidentally said something that made us cry? $25. It's something we've poked loving fun at over the years and once in a great while, I will still follow up a conversation about something difficult with "does this mean I get $25?"

So this morning, S woke up crying. He's been a bit more emotional the past week since having a Zoom playdate with a friend (because that is a thing now). He sat on his Tatty's lap and cried because he misses his teachers from last year. He misses his friends. He, like the rest of us, misses life as he used to know it. And maybe he's crying for what was. Maybe he's crying for what is. Maybe he's crying for what is still ahead--more of this Unknown and Waiting, arguably two of the most difficult states to live in for any amount of time when you are 6 (or 36), even for minutes, let alone months. And my first response when my husband told me was "What can I do? I don't have a way to fix it." So I texted my sister and asked her if she thought $25 might help. Like, at what age do we start offering $25 to fix things? 

And that's when I also finally understood what that $25 was all about. That was what was offered for the things that couldn't be fixed. When there was no way to bandage or explain away the pain. For when there were no books or experts to heal the hurt. For when no previous experience of one's own or otherwise could point you in the direction of which Mystery Door to open next, there was $25. It might not fix the problem at hand, but it was something. It said, "I can't make this better, but I want to." It said, "I can't take this away but I wish I could." It said "I'm not perfect, the world is not perfect, and you don't have to be either."

Two crisp bills, a twenty and a five, said that sometimes you just have to sit with that sadness. Maybe for a day or maybe 3 weeks. Maybe every year around the same time. You have to give it a space and a place. That place can be a lap and that space needs to have walls because you cannot stay in it forever. But it can be warm and it can be cozy and can be followed up with $25 (or in this case, a trip to the park for a nature walk). Because sadness is sometimes not a bad thing. Sadness is just another way of longing. Longing for what was, longing for what will become. And just on the other side of longing is motion. Motion forward (or backward), actions of change, actions of learning, growth, release. Longing is what propels us ahead. Maybe at full speed and maybe just one foot in front of the other, but it is what tells us "You can sit in this sadness, you can miss what was.  You can be apprehensive about what is and what will become." And longing is what keeps us going. 

Maybe those three weeks of not cutting our hair or buying new clothes or listening to music are not a "punishment." Maybe those 9 days before Tisha b'Av that we don't eat meat or drink wine or do our laundry are not a "harsh decree." Maybe that is G-d's way of saying we can wear our comfiest sweatpants with an extra loose waistband and eat mac n'cheese for every meal and ice cream straight from the tub for dessert. Maybe it's His way of saying we can listen to that sad song on repeat 389 times and cry into our pillows instead of putting on a happy face and heading to the mall with friends. We can do this within this space and within this place because sadness does need its own time and location. But we don't remain there. We don't feel comfortable there. We long to get out of that.

In some ways, contentment and complacency are worse enemies than grief. In some ways it feels OK to be NOT OK with this. My kids will have many a time they cry on our laps. I hope they don't get too big for that too soon. There will be some times we can fix it and sometimes we cannot. Maybe Tisha b'Av is the day we sit on G-d's lap and cry. Some years He might have a bandaid, a DIY manual, a useful anecdote from history, a tutor or an ice cream cone. This year He gave us the proverbial $25 because it will get better, it has to, but not right now. Not just yet. And maybe those 3 weeks are about longing more than sadness. To me, sadness feels stagnant. Like giving in and giving up. Longing feels like trudging through it because for rainy days, there are rubber boots and umbrellas. For minor boo boos there are topical ointments and Paw Patrol bandaids. For high school breakups there are RomComs and wavy BBQ potato chips. And for everything else...there's $25.

Keep Playing!

Am I Doing This Right??!

Am I doing this right? It used to be a question I asked myself every so often both as a parent and as a teacher. And now that we are all in this dual role together and alone, it is a question I ask with significantly more frequency...

How much time should my kids be spending in front of screens? How hard should I push them to do "school" work and sit in front of Zoom classes if they don't want to? How should I be scheduling the days or should I not be scheduling at all? How many "easy to do at home creative family fun activities" should I be incorporating into the day? How much time should I be spending on my own work and creative endeavors? How often should I be cleaning my house and tidying clutter? How much of a threshold do I need to give for behavior issues right now? How many snacks does my toddler really need in an hour? Are my children going to fall behind their peers if we don't do Khan Kids Academy/Virtual Museum Tours/Lunchtime Drawing Sessions With Their Favorite Author and Illustrator/YouTube PE and Yoga every day?

I cannot speak for what every parent, family and teacher is thinking and feeling right now, but I can imagine that if I am asking myself some of these questions on a daily hourly basis (sometimes even more frequently than that), so are many others. I have been a teacher in a classroom. I have been a stay at home parent. I have never before done both at the same time while also trying to prevent my family and others from getting sick, running a household, office, school and entertainment industry, preparing for Pesach and never leaving or seeing people beyond a walking distance away. Uncharted territory is the understatement of the century. And I can't speak for what other schools may require of students in this time or what works for each household within that framework, but I can give my unsolicited opinion:

First off, if you're healthy and your basic needs are met by the end of the day right now, you're doing great. We need to reset the bar. We need to decide how much exposure to social media is helpful and when it is not helpful. We need to trust that the beautifully filtered photos of happy children and creative family activities that we see (including my own) are literally a snapshot of one moment in one day that was full of plenty less photogenic ones. I didn't get a picture of me ugly crying in my kitchen last Friday. I didn't get a shot of us losing our patience with the kids last night while we tried to fold laundry right before their bedtime and they were literally jumping off the walls. I didn't capture the moment one or two or all three completely melted down because their banana broke, because they were put on the rug to play for five minutes and I left the room, because the toy vacuum he was trying to carry up the stairs was "not listening!" Survival mode is a real thing. Those pictures we see are there because they are imperative to our survival right now. We need to see the one thing in a day we know we did right because there are too many others we are unsure of.

But what should we be doing for our early learners right now as parent-teachers who never expected or planned to be thrust into this role overnight? (I should note here I am not touching on the topic of older children and learning because it is above my pay-grade.) Let me give you a tiny glimpse into the secret world of early childhood...

You Do Not Need New Activities Every Single Day: This may be shocking to you, but teachers repeat activities. Often. Sure, there are billions of ideas on Pinterest and Instagram. But we don't have a new craft, sensory table, writing activity, dramatic play scene, science experiment, storytime, game, fill-in-the-blank every day or even every week. And repetition is good for children. An activity that may require a lot of assistance at first can be done more autonomously with repetition. Feelings of confidence arise from opportunities to develop competence and mastery over a task. Deeper understanding and engagement happen when something is familiar. And familiarity is comforting--especially in times of crisis.

You Do Not Need to Fill Every Moment of Every Hour of Every Day: Even in classrooms, there are open spaces of time. Time when children have "free play" and not structured activities. Recess. Have recess! Call it that or whatever you want and "schedule" it into your day. And, if possible, schedule your own "recess" as well. This is time to play for everyone. If you can, get outside. If you can, find enjoyable ways of moving your body. And if you can, let this be a time for your own enjoyment and not a time to clean, tidy toys, prep food or other activities...

You Don't Need to Spend Every Waking Moment with Your Children: In fact, I would even argue that you shouldn't. It's OK (albeit challenging and even right now I am challenged by this) to say that you are taking some time for yourself and you need some space. It's a great way to model this to your children as well--and helpful for siblings who are spending every waking hour together as well in close quarters. And I would also argue that spending a chunk (in fact, several chunks) of time for yourself where you are not also engaged with tending to the many desires of everyone else and the many household tasks will help you to be more engaged in times that you do need to tend to the many desires and tasks at hand. Of course, this doesn't mean ignoring an urgent need. It also doesn't take into consideration that in many households, one or more parents/caregivers are working. There are times that working adults will need to be working and are not available.

They Can Be Bored and they will and it's OK.  Good even. This is the space where creative thinking, planning, discovery and deep play begins.

You Don't Have to Fix It All: There are going to be fights. Meltdowns. Disappointments. Temper tantrums. Frustrations. And also fears, worries, anxieties, grief... You can't and you don't have to fix it all. Be there. Be patient (with yourself as well). Know that this just will have to be enough. You don't have to intervene at every sibling squabble. You don't have to fill the minutes of boredom. You don't have to direct every activity or please every person at every time. It's OK to say "I can't" or "No" or "I don't know right now." And it's also OK to ask "What do you think we should do about this?" or "How can we solve this?" or "What would help you in this moment?"

About Activities... You don't need novel activities and projects every hour or every day. It's great if you have an interest in planning one or two. It's also OK if you don't or you can't. It's fabulous if an activity spans over the course of several days or weeks. Consider some longer term projects (like learning a new craft or hobby, planting a garden, or, as shown in the photo at the top, a child-led project like digging the deepest hole possible and finding out what is underground). And also note that teachers do not always prep every single step of every single activity. It's OK to just set out some paper and rolls of tape. It's OK for your kids to cut and glue and find their own materials and clean them up afterward... And you don't have to have every single item on that extensive blog supply list complete with Amazon affiliate links. We are all having to get creative with using what we have on hand and this is also a reality for many classrooms and teachers on a regular basis. What can you use instead? And this is a great question to pose to your children--you may be impressed with what they come up with. Activities can also be participation in natural routines of your day--cooking together, cleaning together, folding laundry together, reading together...

Time... Do you need a color coded schedule? Do you need to have timers set and follow a strict routine? No. And truthfully, many of the best classrooms don't follow a strictly timed schedule either aside from out of necessity (like pick up times or scheduled extracurricular activities). Having some semblance of a repeated flow of activities can be helpful. Even having a visual representation of this can be helpful for young children (and this can be as simple as stick figures drawn onto paper) so they are able to see that after breakfast they will get to play and after that there will be a Zoom class and after that there will be a time to go outside and then Mommy will be "at work" and at this time Daddy will be able to play with you... And it's OK to go off schedule. If your kids are content playing outside and really engaged in a game together, you don't need to rush inside for a craft project or science experiment.

Emergent "Curriculum" in the Home: Theme based learning is something that does happen in many classrooms, but it's not the only way and it's not the way that you must run things in your home (unless you happen to like that). One thing I have really enjoyed gaining out of this is an opportunity for emergent "curriculum" to happen in my home. Y wanted to have a pillow for the Seders next week, so we all sewed pillows. S wondered if we could grow an apple tree from the seeds of his apple, so the boys collected their seeds and we planted them and they sprouted and then S wanted to plant it outside, so they dug a hole and we put in the plant and we are making a label to stick beside it with a wooden paint stick we have at home. C was very interested in how the doors on the dollhouse open and close, so we got out some other toys that open and close and showed her to the toy kitchen cabinets that open and close and observed how things "appear" and "disappear" when doors open and close.

The If You Can/When You Can Category: If you can/when you can, have a list (either physical or in your head) of things to do when you need to fill a space of time or change a mood or moment. You can even engage the whole family in coming up with that list. Take a walk. Blow bubbles. Dance party. Read together. Read aloud. Family Movie Night. Board games. If you can/when you can set a chunk of time (does not need to be a long time or even only one, you can do "snacks" instead of a "meal" here), and have that be time with your family and kids. Where you can put the phone aside and turn the computers off. Be silly together. Share hopes and plans for the future together. Just be.

When to Zoom In and When to Zoom Out: No one versed in even the most basic components of early childhood development will tell you that screen learning is developmentally appropriate for this age group. In fact, I don't think it's really developmentally appropriate for any age group. But this is what we have now. There are many benefits to this technology and it allows us to be together while we are alone. But it is also very hard on children and their adults! If your kid is done with it for the day, my *opinion* is that you can shut it down. I know some schools and teachers have certain requirements now, but my two cents is that if it's not working for your child on one day or on many or on any at all, shut it down. If it's not working for you on one day, on many or on any at all, shut it down. Math can happen by counting grapes, splitting the last cookie in half, measuring how deep the hole is in the backyard... This is not a normal school scenario. This is not even a normal home school scenario. We are all in this together and alone. The bigger picture is not clear right now, but it's also not what we need to worry about/focus on at the moment. Getting through this with health, safety and some semblance of sanity is. I feel that the benefits that do potentially come from Zoom classes or similar setups right now are the opportunity for "socialization" and for familiarity/routine. There may be some learning happening as well, but right now that is not the most urgent need we have. So if virtual schooling is giving your child a way to connect that works for him/her and works for you--that is a great tool. If it is not, you can make use of other tools here. As a teacher, I would want to have feedback from my parents and families right now to know what is working and what is not and to brainstorm together--I do think it's OK and encouraged to reach out to your teachers and discuss this with kindness and empathy on both sides. We all need a lot of that right now.

And with that said, be well, be patient, be kind to yourself, and when you can, be playful.

Supporting Our Children's Mental Health (And Our Own) In Times of Crisis

These are unprecedented times. There is nothing in our proverbial tool belts to help us know how to navigate this. Our lives, our children's lives and the world at large has come to an abrupt and sudden halt with no clear light and the end of this tunnel and no certainty of when we will see one. So many times in our lives here when my children have faced something new or scary, we have been able to tap into our adult tool belts to access ways to support them. We have been able to draw upon experiences in our own lives or wisdom from others, but now, we are right there along with them. This is new. This is scary. And we have to use what we do know to navigate the unknown.

So many questions plague my nightly insomnia sessions. Will my children be traumatized by this? Will we manage to stay safe and healthy? Will our loved ones stay safe and healthy? Will my children have the resilience to pull through this with strength and security? Will we? How do we support our children's mental health (and our own) in a time of global crisis?

There is so much I don't know. With everything I do know, I try to keep this ship afloat. I am so incredibly lucky that we are all currently healthy, safe and able to support our family's needs. So many are suffering out there in so many ways. I feel incredibly lucky as well to be here with my husband and children. While it is challenging to share a 2 bedroom apartment and small outdoor space that is now our home, office, cafeteria, kindergarten, preschool and nursery, I am not alone. My children are very young, and in some ways I feel that this makes it easier on us. They don't have the frame of reference to know how "not normal" this "new normal" is. They are still able to find joy and wonder in each and every day. They are still as enamored with jumping in mud puddles in the rain as they are lying in the grass on a warm and sunny day. They find the silver linings and they are the silver linings. I don't have a great concern over their academic development in this time of unforeseen and long term school closure. But I do worry about how this will affect their social and emotional health.

S started kindergarten this year. He is a kid who thrives on routine and predictability. Routine and predictability are out the window right now. He is a kid who needed more playdates and social interactions with peers, not fewer, not none. He is a kid who needs space and opportunity to move his body living in close quarters. He was excelling in reading (in two languages), writing, math, science, Jewish studies and more. He was working on challenges with focus and attention and executive functioning in a classroom setting and was about to get some support with this in his school. Now he is in an environment where, granted, that is less of a struggle, but also less of an opportunity to grow. While many of his peers probably struggle with this new Zoom "classroom" environment, having the ability to have all of his peers muted actually helps him hone in. If only real classrooms had a "mute all" option. He is naturally empathetic and sensitive to feelings of anxiety or uncertainty. In these circumstances, there is no way to shield him from that, but plenty of opportunity to support him in navigating these emotions.

Y started preschool this fall. He had waited for two years for this. Every morning, he came along with me to drop off his older brother and then go home. On his first day of preschool when I drove him into the parking lot, he gleefully shouted, "Mommy, it's my school, it's my school! And DON'T take me home!" And he loved his friends and teachers. One day, one of his favorite classmates went on a trip (a cruise) but then she came back. Another day shortly after, it was announced that one of his teachers was also going on a trip (moving away); she did not come back. He was sad and confused about this and still is, but he built a strong connection with the new teacher and continued to connect closely with his other teacher as well. Then came Purim. He had a grand time eating copious amounts of treats that day. The following morning, he put on his astronaut costume, jet pack and a rain coat and began walking to the van to go to school. There was going to be a Purim party that day and he couldn't wait to squeeze in one more celebration. Then, right on the top step of our porch, he said "mommy, my mouth hurts" and threw up. He wanted to go to school. He wanted a cookie. His Mommy told him he couldn't go to school because he threw up and then he tried to convince me that he did not, in fact, throw up, it was his baby sister, C! Then that Mommy took him inside, cleaned him up, gave him watered down Gatorade and plain toast instead of a cookie and the very next day, school shut down for the rest of the year. Guess you really can't go to school if you throw up. Oh dear...
And C? She's the kid, who ironically I see the least of. Now that we are all home and not shlepping around to pick up and drop off siblings, she finally gets to nap. She loves having everyone here, especially her older brothers. She was also just beginning physical therapy for hypotonia and now those sessions will take place via telepractice. She'll probably try to eat the computer. She (and her brothers) really need opportunity for movement and active play, and while a small space is just the right size for her small body right now, it's still hard to produce the many terrains of the outer world in our tiny inner portion of it. When will she see a playground again? When will she have an opportunity to experience mulch? A ramp? A swing? A shopping cart?

And while all of these concerns bounce back and forth in the empty spaces of 3-5AM, the greatest of them all is how this will affect the mental health of my own children and children across the world. There aren't strategies and support groups for dealing with pandemics with young children. There are methods and tools for dealing with grief and plenty of children are facing that challenge. There are practices for handling trauma but at this early stage, we can't really tell how this will affect children in the longer term. And children with all kinds of needs and supports to navigate them are living lives with less support in place rather than more. But here's what I do know. We do have tools to navigate the emotions that accompany this. We are facing this as a worldwide community and in that sense, no one is alone or isolated in this. So if, like me, you are looking for ways to support your own children's mental health in this time of uncertainty, here are some tools that are working for us:

A Duck Doesn't Always Walk and Talk Like a Duck
It is important to note that anxiety and sadness in our children right now does not always manifest in "obvious" ways. It may come in any or all of the following forms (and others not listed):

• "I'm bored"
• acting silly
• aggression and anger
• lower threshold and emotional latency
• increased requests for help with tasks they typically do independently
• "I'm hungry"
• acting out worries through play (death, illness, even violence)
• testing limits and boundaries
• tearful moments
• angry outbursts and tantrums
• seeming withdrawn
• refusal to cooperate or participate in planned activities
• increased or decreased appetite
• regression in developmental behaviors (i.e. toileting, sleep patterns, etc.)
• being "clingy," more attached and more emotional at separations (i.e. bed or nap times, a parent leaving the room or house)

This list is by no means comprehensive, but the important thing is to keep an open eye and an open mind. Try to identify and recognize when your child may be experiencing and expressing anxiety and sadness. It is hard and it is also challenging to meet these needs with our own anxiety and sadness in tow.

Speaking of our own anxiety and sadness... I am not going to tell you to "keep it in check." It's up and down. These are not going to be "perfect" times and I have to believe that this is OK. I believe in trying our best and trying again when we miss that mark. I believe in being honest with our children at an age appropriate level. It is important that they know that we are here to support them in every way we can. It is important they know that we want to keep them healthy and safe and that we love them and care about them. It is important that they know that there is a lot we don't know, but when we know more we will tell them. It is important that they know they can ask us any question or talk about any worry no matter how big or small it may feel.

And for us--we need to give ourselves a space and time to feel our own worry and grief. I tend to be able to surpass the paralysis stage of it when I can put something into action. I find it personally helpful to work on planning things I can when so many things cannot be planned for now. For me, that looks like creative work. I have found it challenging to not have any time "to myself" anymore, but I have also learned that I don't need to save my creative endeavors for times when no one else is around. I can craft and knit and write and organize while we are all together. So I am baking, sewing, knitting and planting all of the things. Apartmentsteading, if you will. 

It is not perfect. I have lost my patience. So has my husband. I have cried once in front of the kids. I have cried a LOT of times at night when they are asleep. I have navigated the space between remaining connected through social networking and being over connected to the point of anxiety. Then, as if it, too had simply had enough of this all, my phone died. So for the better part of this week I have been pretty unplugged--so socially distant that I now want social distancing extra credit! I have also been more tuned in to my kids and able to overhear some of their play and processing. And I have also been far less anxious with limited and more intentional exposure to media. So on that note, I also recommend deciding for yourself what, how much and what type of media exposure is helpful to you in this time. It's ok if that changes from one day to the next. Give yourself a time to talk to another adult whether it is a spouse, a friend, a family member or a professional (or maybe all of the above). 

Children and Media Exposure:

On the topic of media exposure, it's important to be mindful of what information children are getting, how they are getting it and how they are processing it. It may be a good idea to refrain from having the news on during times that young children are present. Alternatively, you might consider seeking helpful media resources and watching them together with your children.

An Attitude of Gratitude:

Studies have shown that in times of crisis, an attitude of gratitude is a huge support factor. Finding things to be grateful for and ways to "get out of ourselves" can help to support our own mental health and well being. I do not think, however, that this means we must ignore the feelings of sadness and grief and worry--those feelings are real and valid. But there is room in those feelings to still be able to find moments of joy and glimpses of hope. If gratitude isn't your thing, maybe humor is. Or distraction. A favorite hobby. A new hobby. And encourage these support tools in your children as well.

Remaining Socially Distant AND Connected:

This is so hard. We all feel trapped and isolated. For those of us like myself who are more introverted and prefer less physical touch, this may not be as challenging as it is for those who are very extroverted and whose primary love language may be a hug from a friend. It is important to help our children feel as connected to friends and loved ones as possible while still practicing safe social distancing. Video chats and phone calls and even mail (with safety restrictions observed) can help. Also recognizing signs that your child needs more connection with you at this time can be helpful. It is definitely draining when the need is so high and I find myself pretty exhausted by the end of each day. But I am trying more and more to lean into that rather than resisting it. Even my least snuggly kid is more interested than usual in cuddling up next to me and maybe I even need a bit more of that, too.

About this whole Zoom school thing...

I can't speak for other parents or educators right now, but as a parent and educator myself, I'd say go with what works here. I am so grateful to all the effort and perseverance my children's teachers are putting forth. S is doing pretty well right now with the whole Zoom class thing. Y likes the time with me during his virtual "Circle Time" and likes seeing his teachers and friends, but sitting in front of a screen when you are 3 and have low vision is not the ideal learning style. If your kids are loving this, go with it. If they are not, close the laptop and do what works. Don't let this be a battle or additional stress factor. Your child is not going to fall behind his peers when all of his peers are also experiencing this. We will all be navigating the new starting spot when things resume in the Fall. Consider this "emergent curriculum" in your home. Even those who have homeschooled or currently do will tell you that this is not at all what homeschooling looks like. If your child does times tables one day, great. If the next day he learns about math by eating half a bag of M&Ms, great.

Creating a "New Normal:"

Gotta hand it to you moms out there with your color coded schedules and newly preschool-themed living room decor. But if that's not your speed, don't feel like you're not earning yourself Mom/Dad/Teacher of the Year. We all get that award this year no matter what. I personally have made great strides in the the Stay at Home end of being a Stay at Home Mom. You don't need to make a schedule. Every minute of every day does not need to be planned and filled. Kids get bored and then they get past that. The space just past boredom is glorious. It actually was just filled here now by a very inquisitive S who finished his snack and was looking for direction and connection but a Mom who really needs a little more time to her own thoughts and now he is deeply engaged in a favorite book. That said, having some sort of routine can be helpful for everyone. That differs from person to person and family to family. Here it means that we do get dressed every morning. We have breakfast, play time, then the boys have their "classes" on Zoom. Then we have a snack, go outside, maybe do an activity together I have planned or maybe follow a lead one of the boys comes up with. They come in for lunch, Y has a nap, S has his afternoon "class" and then some time on the computer to play games for half an hour. After that, he has an afternoon snack and some time with me (which is about to happen here). C and Y usually wake up around the same time and join us. My husband finishes his work and we all have dinner. Then we usually do a family walk or a bike ride for the boys. C kind of joins us whenever and naps once in the morning and once later on. It's OK if the "schedule" changes. We go with what everyone seems to need in the moment. But having some routines and things that are predictable really helps everyone to feel a little more "normal" in this "new normal."

Staying Active and Staying Together:

Even in limited spaces, getting outside together, taking a walk together, playing tag or having a family race together can get everyone moving and releasing those happy endorphins in our brain. It can also open up conversations in a more comfortable venue than sitting down to talk together. 

Document the Journey:

If your children are older, it might be a good idea to keep a journal. If they are younger, they may like to draw. They don't need to write about this experience or their feelings, although they may want to. But having a space to keep their thoughts and ideas can be helpful.

And When All Else Fails...

It's OK to start over. Once a day, once an hour, as often as needed. If you need to change the mood, try changing the room or putting on some music or lighting a candle. Be silly. Be sad if you need to but don't be stuck in it. Talk about what your wishes and hopes are. It's OK if your five year old wants to plan his 6th birthday party that you don't know when it will be. Just reassure him that it will be. And find ways to celebrate right now. Celebrate anything and everything you can. National Crayon Day. Check. Eat a Donut Day. Check. Tuesday. Check.

And When to Grab that Life Preserver...
There is no stigma here with mental health needs. We are all experiencing a mental health crisis. If and when you need more support for yourself, for your children, for your marriage, for your parenting--it is out there (albeit in a different venue) and it's OK to utilize it.

I'm off for my afternoon dose of Vitamin D and S giggles...some of my favorite medicine. Stay safe. Stay healthy. Stay sane and keep playing.

Meeting Our Children's Needs In Uncertain Times

Perhaps the blessing in disguise of being home all day every day with my kids right now is that I am too busy to worry. But then once they go to bed, the worries resume, running like a laundry list (with unwashed laundry piling up at the bottom) for the hours between dusk and dawn. And since I can't really tackle some of the deeper and darker items on that list or the feeling of eminent, pending doom, or the looming questions of WHAT IF, WHEN, HOW LONG, SHOULD I, WILL I, HOW and WHY, I instead turn my focus to questions I can tackle or at least tolerate right now.

And really what I have is just a list of questions. Maybe some ideas. Not a lot of answers. But here's a little of what's been on my mind in thinking about how we can meet our children's developmental needs during these uncertain times.

Schools from nursery on up have gone online and are rapidly developing distance learning programs. What does this mean for our children? What about parents? What I can say is that the outpouring of ingenuity, creativity and support in the form of educators and individuals offering whatever they can in new and novel ways is astounding. I, for one, am going to be adding the following items to my resume: basket weaving, balloon animal sculpting, home IT support for distance learning, assistant architect behind one dining room Eiffel Tower made from straws, tape and Q-tips... I used the internet in some way to support all of my newfound roles and accomplishments from YouTube videos to show me how to make a balloon sword to Amazon for adding a basket-weaving kit to my birthday wish list (thank you, Mom!), to Pinterest for the ideas on building with straws and tape to Scholastic's website for providing my eldest with reading activities... But how did we go from a family who used screen time somewhat sparingly to being a family who relies on it for socialization, communication, education, and more?

I've gotta hand it to you parents out there with your color coded schedules and slots for attending this Zoom dance party and that Live Story time--I'm flying by the seat of my skirt here. It's going alright so far and I spend much of the day focused on getting from A to B rather than A to Z. A to B is manageable. And while I am worried about aspects of skill loss (similar to what happens during summer breaks), I am less concerned about the "academic" end of that with my younger children. What most concerns me as a parent of children ages 5 and under is meeting their needs for movement, social development and emotional wellness in an environment that is less conducive to any and all of these.

So as I usually do when I have a suitcase full of stuff, I'll unpack one thing at time...

Meeting Our Children's Need for Movement in Restricted Spaces: I've worked in small spaces as a teacher and lived in small spaces as a parent. This end of it is nothing new. What is novel is the fact that we can't move beyond these smaller spaces. How can my children meet their developmental needs for physical movement in the same, small environment for the foreseeable future? Yes we are so incredibly fortunate to have space outdoors to use and some tools and tricks indoors. But add to this as well that all three of my children have hypotonia and were gross-motor delayed. And that C just started physical therapy but will likely not have support or at least support in the same way right now. We can do a lot from home, but I can't recreate the experience of a playground or the woods or a game of tag played with lots of peers or a gymnastics studio...
What I can do is mix it up and get creative. We change spaces often. We build forts and use furniture to encourage heavy lifting. We get outside and run in the grass, play "keep it in the air" with a giant beach ball, ride bikes around a parking lot that is so desolate now that it's finally safe to ride. We let them jump on their mattresses. We do a bit of rough and tumble play with Tatty. We turn play, science and art activities into movement ones as well. Building a tall tower of straws and tape encourages bending and reaching, climbing and balancing, walking around and between people and materials so as not to knock it over... Art activities are done at the table but also on the floor and vertically on the wall. Smaller muscle groups are challenged and used with sensory play and cooking and gluing, cutting, beading, building... And encouraging and supporting independence in tasks that may have been more challenging is something we have plenty of time for now.

Meeting Our Children's Social Development Needs During Social Distancing: This, among all of my educational concerns, is perhaps my greatest one right now. In these earlier years, socialization is my primary focus when it comes to school. Reading will happen, writing comes along, math skills develop all at their own rate and quite naturally when children are given access to play and conversation and life experience. But how can we support pro-social behaviors in this population, not to mention children older than mine, from a stance of isolation? I cannot recreate the social environment of a schoolyard or a classroom from behind the screen of my laptop. A video playdate just isn't the same as the interaction that occurs on a school playground. Sibling rivalry offers plenty of opportunities for problem solving and conflict resolution, but it does not equal the experience of problem solving and resolving conflicts between friends and peers or even children and other adults. The experience and challenges of relationships between siblings and between children and their parents is inherently different from their relationships outside of the home. I have a son who greatly needs the experience of more playdates and opportunities to work on social skills and now he has no opportunities for this.
In getting creative and entering my problem solving mode, I've come up with some ideas. Games--especially board games, are a great tool for promoting social skills in young children and also encourage other skill development (plus, they are fun!). Through age appropriate card games, board games and even backyard games, children experience the challenges of taking turns, waiting, problem solving, abstract thinking, sharing, regulating emotions around "losing" or "winning," developing empathy toward others in these emotions, honesty (not cheating!)... Executive functioning tasks like following rules/directions, organizing multiple steps and tasks in space and time, focus and attention are also addressed. In addition to this, I am finding playful ways to "mix it up" here and expand beyond rigidity. I never like to push beyond a safe range of comfort zones and particularly in a time when all routines and the comforts of predictability are totally out the window, I am mindful not to be too aggressive with this one. But little things like having breakfast for dinner or eating lunch outside and even adjusting to all being home together every single day are opportunities for children who thrive on routine to the detriment of being able to cope with something different to really work on this skill set.

Meeting Our Children's Emotional Needs While Our Own Emotions Are On High Alert: I am a firm believer in being honest with our children and giving them adequate information for their age and level of understanding. I am a firm believer in telling our children that we are here to help them and to protect them. I am usually able to tell my children and my students not to worry because the adults in their life will keep them safe and if we're not worried, they don't need to be either. The problem here is that the adults are worried. And I think we need to be reasonably honest about that, too. "Grownups are worried right now because this is something new for us, too. When something is new, it can feel scary. But we are learning what we can and we will use everything we know to help." But there is a lot we don't know. And as much as we can, we need to shield our children from adult sized worry and panic. We also need to shield ourselves as much as we can from over-sized worry and panic. Easier said than done. Self care is vital for everyone, whether you are still out and working or at home alone or at home with kids...we don't need to "one up" each other on who has it worse right now. Isolation and fear are taking their toll on everyone in every way. We need to recognize that good enough right now is good enough. That if you have a pretty color coded schedule and it's working for you, you rock! If you're winging it, you rock! If you're posting pictures of activities you do with your kids, you rock! If you're not posting pictures of the dirty dishes, laundry pile and your arms flailing in exasperation for the umpteenth time today because your phone died after uploading the 21st photo of the only two minutes where everyone was happy and not crying, you rock!

Our emotions are on high and our energy is on low. Try as we might, we can't hide it from our kids. We can't completely protect them from our experience of this pandemic because it is new to us as well. What we can do is start over. As often and as many times as necessary. I've said it today already and I'll probably say it again--"let's start over." "Let's try that again." And let's also get creative with those resources. Self care looks very different right now when we can't go to the coffee shop or the bar or the nail salon or the movies. For those of us in the workforce, there are financial concerns and worries about career stability. For those of us on the home front, isolation is hard. With kids at home all day, there's no "but he'll be in school soon" light at the end of the tunnel. There's no end to the presence of our little mini-mes all day long and the light at the end of the tunnel is there, but it has to look different right now. It might be just getting to the next part of the day when one will be asleep and I can get outside with the other two who will be occupied enough that I can sit with a travel cup of coffee. And after hours upon hours of kid conversation, I just want to use words like "toilet" instead of "potty" and for goodness' sake, can't I just say "a$$" instead of "tushy?!" Thank G-d for social networking in periods of social isolation. I am introverted and like my time and space, but this is a lot of time and space. I miss the cashier at Walmart. I miss the receptionist at the gym. I miss the maintenance guy in my bathroom for the 892nd time fixing the same damn problem with my potty, I mean, toilet. But thank G-d I do have my kids and my husband. I can't imagine how hard this is for those who live alone with their thoughts and their worries and their inner monologue all day and night. I already want to divorce myself after 8 hours of being mostly awake in my bed at night! Or at least have a little time apart...perhaps see other people...

What Am I Not Worried About: Finally a list I can sink my teeth into! I'm not worried [too much] about my kids being "ready for" first grade/pre-K/____. We are all in this same boat just trying to stay above water. Our education system has been in crisis long before this crisis. I have talked about here at length--the over "academification" of early childhood education. We move our children too fast, beyond what is developmentally appropriate, reasonable and sustainable. And instead of producing a generation of children who love to learn and who will carry us to the peaks of innovation and education, we are producing a generation of children who lack the skills to play, who hate school by the time they are in first grade, who have all the skills in place to build a rocket but none of the skills in place to troubleshoot when systems fail. Education in our country has been forced to slow down. This is going to take time and right now, time is, G-d willing, one thing we have in abundance. If there is a silver lining to any of this, perhaps this is one. We are here at home reading to our kids, playing with our kids, problem solving with our kids, resolving conflicts with our kids, cooking with them, cleaning with them, learning with them, growing with them. We have absolutely nothing else we can do. And it's novel right now, so it's kind of fun. S even said "Mommy school is more fun than regular school because you get to play more." But I also know that novelty will wear off. We will get frustrated. We will get cabin fever. We will get bored. And from boredom comes amazing things...I can't wait to see what they will be!

So I still have way more questions than I have answers. It's easier to wonder if my kids will go back to school this year at all than it is to address many of the other questions I have on that list. I am the pendulum swinging between feeling so sure I've got this and so afraid that I don't. And when I swing to the latter side, my concerns on the former feel trivial and silly. Worrying about my kids' development and education while there are far greater concerns to worry about. But that worrying isn't helpful and what is helpful at this time is getting outside of myself and finding ways to offer what I can to others. I hope that this "space" is one where you can access ideas for play and fun and connection with your family right now. I hope that if there is anything related to play, early learning and family support that I can offer to you or anyone you know, you'll feel comfortable to reach out and ask. Please remember that play is not a privilege, it is a right. It is the right of every child and every adult! And if nothing else gets done today, play will--and when it does, know that it is enough. And in these uncertain times when we need it more than ever, I wish us safety, health, healing and, as always...

Happy Playing

Bullying, Racism, Death, Germs, and Other Uplifting Topics That Are Hard to Talk About With Children

Is this a space suit or a hazmat suit?

We are in the midst of the coronavirus epidemic and schools here have officially closed down. My husband did not read his emails this morning, but he did misread the clock and got everyone up an hour early! But, thank G-d, he's also home and has all 3 kids outside for some fresh air and play. Adults right now are all very worried and in some ways this worry is helpful when it comes to taking preventative measures and precautions. In other ways, the mass hysteria and misleading information out there can be hindering. And as much as we are aiming to protect our families and communities right now, our children are aware of our heightened concern--whether overtly so or not. And this makes me reflect on talking to young children about tough topics like this. We waver between wanting to protect and wanting to inform. S has already come home from school talking about washing his hands extra carefully every time before he eats to "protect from the Virus." What does he know about Covid19? What does he wonder? Is he worried or afraid? When it comes to talking about tough topics like illness, death, race/racism, bullying, sex, etc., where do we start? And where should we stop?

There is not, unfortunately, a simple and foolproof answer here. There is a delicate balance between giving too much information and not enough and that is different from time to time and from child to child. In addition, when our children bring up topics that are tough to talk about, we can easily be caught off guard and begin to make assumptions. When this happens, we may handle the discussion in a less helpful way. I often advise others (and myself) to begin with what they know. And the easiest way to do this is to ask! Let me give you a really unique example from last night:

My husband was giving S a bath and we have a couple of baby dolls in the tub right now for washing and playing. S asked for a doll to play with and my husband handed him one. It happened to be a doll with dark skin. We have a set of 4 of these dolls in varying skin tones. S said "I don't want the one with the dark skin, I want the one with the light skin." My husband was caught off guard and even later when he began to relay the story to me, I, too, jumped to a conclusion right here. Was my 5 year old son discriminating against skin color? Surely we are raising him better than this. I was mortified and then my husband said, "wait, listen to what happened next. I remembered you told me to find out what he knows and I asked him if there was a reason he wanted the doll with the lighter skin." And sure enough there was:
"Tatty, the doll with the light skin has an open mouth and the one with the dark skin's mouth is closed. I want the one with the open mouth so I can pretend to feed him."

Amazing. If we would have started the conversation here with what we know, it would have been completely different than the one that actually took place. It probably would have also felt out of context for S, who just wanted to feed a baby doll. He once asked for a doll in a toy store that was made to resemble a baby from Asia because the doll had "real hair." The other ones had no hair. And surely, we do have conversations in context about treating differences of all kinds with kindness and sometimes those conversations will cross the barriers of race or religion or disAbility, etc.

Even in talking to our children about weapon play and games we find alarming as adults, it has been helpful to find out what they know. Sometimes this can start a conversation. Other times, the conversation may end right there, perhaps to be continued at a later date as more information is required or acquired. It is so hard for us to remember the innocence and inherent ignorance of early childhood. We want our children to be kind. We want them to feel secure. We want others to be kind to them and be safe with them.

We also need to be honest. One of the times that this can feel incredibly challenging is when the topic of death comes up, particularly if it involves a loss within the family. Whereas it was previously thought that very young children are not able to process grief at an early age, research now shows that they do in fact process grief, albeit in their own way. Many adults will gear toward the answer of "so and so went to sleep for a long time" and this can be incredibly confusing and unsettling for children. Will So-and-so wake up? Will they die if they go to sleep? Children may ask questions about death and dying. What does it feel like to die? What happens when someone dies? When will Mommy and Daddy die? When will I die? These are hard for us as adults to process and that paired with our concern about how our children will process the answers can leave us feeling overwhelmed and ill equipped. I think it is OK to say "I don't know" when you don't know. I also think it is OK to keep answers very simplistic and wait for a response to determine what (if any) information is still needed. When I was little and wondered about this, my parents explained death as when the body stops working. In all honesty, this felt like a good answer and still, to this day, does.

What about when children say things that are alarming or upsetting? Once when I was quite little, I walked up to my mother and said "shoot yourself!" She responded in a normal adult way in telling me that this wasn't a nice thing to say and then asked me what I meant. "It's what the goose said in 'Charlotte's Web!'" Ok, so the goose said "suit yourself," which I also had no understanding of but it sounded pretty cool and a little funny so I tried it. And missed a little...

But what about when tough topics involve conflict? Conflict is ever so uncomfortable for us. We may not like it ourselves as adults and we certainly don't want it for our children. And nowadays there is a strong movement toward handling bullying more strongly. In many ways, this is helpful, but I think in some ways it has gone overboard and to the other end of the spectrum where we perceive any and all conflict as bullying when, in fact, not all of it is. Particularly in regard to the preschool and below population, it is not particularly common for very young children to be "bullies." Note that I am using the word bully here to describe actions that are targeted at a particular individual or population and done with the intent to be hurtful/harmful. Most young children do not display this type of behavior, barring extreme exceptions or incidents where trauma is involved.

Most young children do display behaviors we would classify as aggressive, impulsive, hurtful/harmful. The intent may be specifically targeted at an individual, but the purpose is not to bully. Alternatively, the purpose may stem from anger and a desire to gain control or meet a need, but the target may not be specific. And conflict at this age is typical. Verbal arguments, unkind statements, even hitting/kicking/biting and other forms of physical "aggression." We understandably have a low threshold for violent acts. We can't allow children to hurt each other or be hurt. It is painful if our child is the target. Sometimes even harder when our child is the one targeting others. But we need to stop calling preschool aged children bullies. Not only is this unhelpful for children to identify what bullying really is and how to handle it, it is damaging for the child being labeled. Giving support and language and helpful tools to all parties is necessary. Understanding typical child development and recognizing if and when more support is needed is also important.

Nobody likes to hear someone tell our child "I'm not your friend anymore" or "I don't like you." But we also have an adult experience of rejection. And when we think about our own "childhood" experiences of rejection, our memories are more likely from our grade or middle school years than from our preschool years! Nonetheless, these types of statements fly across the playground on a daily basis. We jump in to "coach" with statements of "that's not nice!" or "we don't say 'you can't play,'" or "we're all friends here." But let's unpack this a bit. First of all, this business of "we're all friends here" is potentially a little unfair. Are you friends with everyone in your workplace or neighborhood? I'm not. We can all be kind and respectful, we don't all need to be friends. And even when we are friends, we don't need to always be together or be completely in sync and agreement with one another. And the statements of "that's not nice," may also be less helpful. It may not have been meant to be nice, so you may be preaching to the choir. Alternatively it may not have been the intent of the child saying something to be unkind. Take the following vignette:

A child in my class sat down at the lunch table and opened his lunchbox. The next child joined the table and one by one the spots filled up until the last of the children to wash his hands arrived with his lunchbox and one empty seat remained. "I don't want to sit next to ____" he said. I was about to go into Conflict Resolution Mode when I decided instead to ask if there was a reason. And sure enough, there was: the child sitting there had a tuna fish sandwich and the child waiting to sit down did not like the smell of tuna. I like tuna but honestly, it does smell! Another little girl said she did like the smell and offered to switch seats; problem solved.

I do not want to insinuate that in coaching and teaching our children about bullying, conflict resolution and other tough topics that we are creating the problems that do emerge as they get older. Most children at some point in their lives will experience these things in one way or another and we want them to be prepared, informed and know how to seek support. I am not the type of person that feels it is helpful or realistic to make our children blind to these ills of the world; I am the type of person that feels it is helpful to make them adequately and appropriately aware and sensitive. We've all reached that point of adulthood where we look at our kids today and ask (sometimes even out loud) "What are you thinking?!" and you know what? Tone aside, that's a good question.

Asking our children--even our very young ones--what they are thinking can be the very best place to begin a conversation that needs to follow. What do you know about ___?  What do you wonder? What questions do you have? Is there anything about ____ that worries you or that you want to know more about? Sometimes the answers won't come right away and that's OK. It's not a race, it's a marathon. But leave the door open or at least unlocked so they can return if and when need be.  And don't forget the power of play here. Some conversations are better had through play and some topics of curiosity are better noticed through play. Once in a while when S has done something he is not so proud of, he finds in helpful for Mistakey the Snakey to come out and tell me about it as opposed to him. And sometimes in those conversations, Mistakey can get quite silly. But Mommy always reminds him that even when he is a silly Snakey and makes a mistake, he can always come and talk about it and I will help him.

In fact, most of my conversations like this end with talking about help. What can help you solve this problem? Who can help you? What would be helpful now? What do you need from me right now? And the very last thing I want to remind myself and all of you: it is OK not to know. We don't like not knowing. It's uncomfortable. But not knowing can be just the right amount of fire under our feet to learn more. And if we want to raise a generation of children who desire to learn more, we need to raise a generation of children who are not uncomfortable not knowing. Model it. Embrace it. Use it for the good. And as always...

Happy Playing!

The Third Time I Lost My Patience

There are some days in Parenting Land when you get everything right. And then there was yesterday. And a young boy who is a lot like me. He is very big and he is also very little. His world travels around the sun at lightening speed and his light-up shoes can barely keep up with it. If most of us are 100%, he's 150%. He can pronounce "wingardium leviosa!" He cannot pronounce "WalMart." (It's LoMowt if you're wondering...)

Tuesdays are kind of chill days here. We had a slow morning. He wanted to paint, so we worked together as he carefully organized so many steps of choosing his colors of paint from the atelier, moving one bottle from the front to reach the one behind it, carrying it to a stool, placing it down, handing me the paint tray to hold up as he pressed the pump one-two times to fill one section with green. Eight colors later, he selected his brush and a piece of white glossy paper and took it to the easel. He asked for a smock; I helped him put it on. He pointed out that it's different than putting on a coat because it goes over the front and closes in the back. He finished his first masterpiece. C was hungry for third breakfast, so my hands were full, but I nursed-and-walked to help him carry his painting to a spot on the table where it could dry. He then got his own second sheet of paper, hung it on the easel and painted some more. He selected prime locations to hang his dry-enough paintings. Then it was on to the next thing... And later off to playgroup. And then lunch. And a nap. And then to pick up his brother from school. And then home, where we had a special Rosh Chodesh Adar snack-time tradition--making (and eating) peanut butter playdough Hamentaschen. Then S asked for a banana. So did Y. S ate his banana. Y abandoned his. To be completely honest, I had a feeling that would happen... 

And then he wanted to paint again. He wanted to use the large pallets of tempera cakes. S decided to join in as well. Cue the gathering of materials from the atelier, the filling of two glass jars with water, the selection of a brush and an art mat and a piece of paper. Both boys busily painted away at the table. C was ready for 4th lunch. S moved on from painting to building with some gears on the rug. And then some Peter Rabbit figurines we had out. So, of course, this immediately became an item of interest and hot demand for Y. There are 12 figurines, but he needed the one that was in his brother's hand, naturally. Cue the fighting and first time I lost my patience. "Why do you need to have the one toy that's in his hand and not the other 11?"  S relented and gave the toy to Y who, of course, immediately lost interest in it and returned to his artwork.

And then I heard it. The sound of the jar of water falling and spilling behind me. So I went to the table, where sure enough a puddle was making its way in every direction, covering masterpieces that had been left to dry (the irony is not lost on me) and somewhat more irked, I helped him grab some rags and begin to dry the spill. "At least it's only water," I remarked, but my voice was nowhere near as accepting in tone as my choice of words may indicate. And that is when Y proceeded to lean over the table toward S's spot and knock over his jar of water, spilling it everywhere we had just dried plus a few feet further and on the cushion of the chair. And this time my voice was nowhere near a pleasant tone. I sent Y away from the table. He, feeling quite insulted and probably also somewhat startled, started his oral defense. He barked, I barked back. I barked, he barked louder. I sent him upstairs for us to take a break while I cleaned up Niagara Falls. From the top of the stairs, he gave his epic monologue:

"I'm not going to stay upstaiws! I'm going to come downstaiws! I didn't spill the watew, Mommy spilled watew! And you're not going to have any treats or Shabbos Party!"

Oh dear.

Once the table and the floor and three surrounding states had dried, it was time to dry Y's tears. I invited him to come back down if he felt ready. 

"I do feel ready. Sowwy Mommy, I'm done being wude." he said, and got a large laminated paper play mat out to go with the Peter Rabbit figurines. He played with it for about a New York Minute and decided to pick up the mat and started crumpling it up. And I, in not so fine a moment, went ballistic. "What are you doing? Why are you being so rough with the toys? I'm so sad!"

And his face became about 17 feet long. His mouth turned all upside down. His little lower lip began to quiver. He looked down and in a quiet, trembling voice said "Mommy, I'm so sad, too."

Oh dear.

And I picked up that boy and his 17 foot long face. And I gave him the biggest longest most needed by both of us hug I could. His world travels around the sun at lightening speed and not only can his light-up shoes not keep up, we don't even know where they are right now. In fact, to be quite honest, my world was also spinning well above my speed limit. But what was the big rush? Tuesdays are kind of chill days. Back it up to the morning where I was thinking to myself that I am really acing this parenting thing today, letting him paint first thing in the morning. We're not in a hurry; we have all the time in the world. And it took him 20 minutes to prepare for an activity he stayed with for only 2 minutes after.

That is play. That is the life of the child. Think about it: what do you hear on the preschool playground? "Pretend you are a cat. And there are 3 kittens. And they have to go to bed, but they are scared of the dark. And the mother cat tucks them in but they keep getting out of their beds and then the mother cat is gone. And they don't know where she is. The mother cat is going to get food, but they won't know she was getting food until she gets back." Meanwhile, one kid goes over to the gravel pit and grabs some rocks that will be props for food. Another is making the beds for the little kittens in the grass and still one more is over by the water table gathering buckets for dishes. The entire time is spent setting up the stage and narration for a show that never actually takes place. And this goes on through the entirety of a year. 

When is this story going to begin? you start to wonder... When will they start playing? I mean, walking a classroom of 12 kids to the playground, you already have a line of 4 fully embodied cats, one dog, a dragon, 3 mice, 2 Batmans and one kid licking the wall. They are already in character, they are already looking behind them, bumping into the dragon ahead of them, talking about how they are going to play when they get outside. But the play never happens. Or does it?

Setting the stage at this stage is the show. It is the coming attractions. It is the performance. It is the final act. It is the bloopers at the end as the credits roll. It's a pace and a space we adults have lost touch with. And perhaps the nostalgia leaves us with a feeling of wistfulness or even jealousy. But it comes out as frustration. Pent up, boiling over frustration. Because they can't just talk about the cat and move on. They have to be the cat in every sense of the word, until they are rubbing against your leg, purring and clawing the couch. And then they are not the cat. Now they are a dog. Or a dragon. Batman. Or a mouse. Or licking the damn wall. 

Life in early childhood is a full body experience in every sense of the word. And water is going to spill. Everywhere. You're lucky if that's all that spills everywhere. But water can be picked up. A lip hanging so low it falls off the map cannot always be picked up as easily. I mean, you can try reeling that thing in, rolling it up like a scroll and then it hits you: he wasn't crumpling the stupid play mat, he was trying to roll it up. Like a scroll. But I was still stuck on the two jars of water and the Peter Rabbit Wars and maybe a little annoyed by the Top of the Stairs Epic Monologue and also a little hangry and tired... 

And that is the difference between Y and me. We are a lot alike. But he still lives his world in every moment. And in that, when he came back down and said he was "sowwy for being wude," he forgot and forgave completely. I was still carrying two spilling jars of water, a tiny rabbit in a dusty brown jacket and clogs, and a laminated poster of several garden scenes. And now also a little bit of guilt. So when my husband got home, I sent myself upstairs, with a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with overpriced maple syrup from a tiny tin can and I didn't come down until I was done being wude.

So what if today I am a little bit more like Y? What if I put a lot of thought and intention into setting the stage as carefully as I can? And what if I immerse in the experience completely but only for a second? And what if I happen to spill a jar or two of water? No biggie, it's only water. Even I can remember that day I spilled a coffee yogurt I took independently from the refrigerator without asking and my mom lost her &S^#. It wasn't the yogurt, it was the 9,468,207 things I'd already done before that and also probably she was hangry and tired and needed a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with overpriced maple syrup from a tiny tin can. But I remember it because I genuinely didn't know I wasn't supposed to be taking that yogurt from the fridge so the reaction felt out of place and severe. It was the day I realized you can spill one to many things in one day. It is also probably the day I internalized that once you reach that point of saturation, there's no point in even trying. Maybe tomorrow...

But not my Y. He is the epitome of trying again. And in that, he is my teacher. My kids have taught me more about being my authentic self than anyone or anything in the world. I may have lost my patience three times, but it can be recovered. Maybe I just need some light up shoes to be able to find it...

Happy Playing!

Oh My Goodness, These Kids Move Slower Than Molasses!

You guys, I just can't. I can't stand how long it takes my kids to get from A to B--even when they are looking forward to B, forget about when they are not. Even when B is a party. A party with a magician. And a balloon artist. And donuts and chocolate and chips and soda. A party they have been looking forward to and talking about for the last ten days. They still move slower than molasses. I'm pretty sure I've seen paint dry in the time it takes my boys to get from the living room out the front door and down the 4 steps to our minivan. What was that? A snail just made the perimeter of the entire parking lot in the time it took for one toddler to get one shoe on? I was born six weeks early and it is a precedent I have kept up in my life. I love to be early. On the other side of that coin is my severe phobia of being late and a strong level of anxiety related to rushing. So I have had to let go quite a lot. To lower that bar significantly enough that I can still see it on the horizon. And also to look into why these kids, yes all kids, move slower than molasses.

I'd like to interrupt this blog post to state that I have had a jar of molasses sitting in my spice rack for longer than I should publicly admit. The same jar of molasses. It has not once moved and my kids still move slower than that. I should probably go check its expiration date...

So yes, kids move at their own pace. A sometimes painfully slow one at that. And I get it on some level. Little legs take a longer time to get from here to there. Tasks like putting on shoes and coats and grabbing a school bag all take time when you are still quite new to them. But is there more to this picture than meets the eye? More than just dragging feet and dragging a heavy tote bag? You betcha!

I think it often boils down to one (or more than one) of the Four Cs. Control, Connection, Coordination, and Communication. 

Why is the child who loves to play outside taking 20 minutes to put his coat, hat, gloves and boots on? For one of my former students, the issue was coordination. It was too many steps and an attention/focus challenge made it nearly impossible to carry out the task in the same space as his peers. Given a separate space in the room where he was on his own was exactly what he needed to be able to move through the steps of getting himself dressed (which he was physically able to do) without the myriad distractions of watching his friends and hearing them talk that made it impossible to even begin. Game changer.

Why is S moving at a snail's speed to get into his car seat on our way to that party? He's super excited about it, but he wants to control when we leave because transitions are hard even and sometimes especially when you are excited. It's also partly the reason that Y lingers in the car after we get home from his school day. He asks to be unbuckled even before we get to the parking lot, but then when he is, he suddenly becomes stagnant. He is not going to a party; he is going to nap. He knows that and he wants to control the time frame within which that will happen because even though he is totally exhausted, he also wants to stay awake.

And for him, it is also a desire for connection. He loves school so much. He's always enthusiastic to go--even and especially on the two days of the week he does not attend. And yet, his lingering about doesn't just happen on the tail end before his nap. It also happens after an hour of repeatedly asking to go to school before school starts until that moment it is time to actually go. Picking out his choice of gloves and hat and scarf is a 10 minute ordeal at best. And then five more to lure him out the front door and toward the van. And then the battle of coaxing him ever so gently toward the van and up to his seat... Why is he moving so slowly???? And then we get there, he is gleefully shouting "it's my school! Mommy, it's my school!" but once the car is in park, it's like a time warp has occurred and we are again in slow motion. This is more than just control, he's also seeking connection. Y loves school and feels happy and secure there. He also loves home and feels happy and secure there. He is leaving one happy and secure environment to enter another; he is separating from me. He is 2 and navigating the space between two such great feelings of love and security is hard. He needs to know that loving his classroom won't detract from his loving his home. He needs to know that feeling love toward his teachers will not take away from the love he feels toward me. So I breathe quite deeply over and over and over again. Because we will be three minutes late no matter what. And that is OK.

And sometimes, that pace is a means of communication. Sometimes it's in indication that a child is tired or hungry or unwell or worried or confused. We got to the party but now S is seemingly stuck in the mud. Is anyone going to move here?? Yes, but this moment of stagnation is communicating that the environment is new and a little loud and very exciting and before we can go sit down, we need to see and scan the room. Y was really eager to go home and eat lunch but taking forever to get into the car again. Why? Because he was hungry and his belly hurt and he was so tired from playing at the children's museum that he fell asleep on the 10 minute drive home. He was communicating that we had stayed a little too long at our first activity and he needed to eat and rest.

I often say that nothing is more exciting to my kids than our parked minivan. They might be totally enthusiastic to get home for a movie night or to the playground for my outdoor meetup, but once that van is in park, that's where the party is at. And they linger. They lag. They lollygag around. And two things have happened almost simultaneously. I have totally lost my mind (and temper) and also learned to recognize my own need to slow down. I am not quite down to a steady speed of Molasses Miles per Hour like they are, but I can manage to go from a gallop to a canter. To embrace the pace or at least grit my teeth trying...

Happy trails and, as always,

Happy Playing!

When Little Kids Have Big Emotions

I recently saw the above image on a Facebook page I follow and it spoke volumes to me. As parents and educators, we often hear the phrase "self-regulation" in regard to the little ones in our care. But what does it mean? Are young children (think between the ages of 0-5) really developmentally ready to manage and express BIG emotions on their own? How about children older than that? Think about the last time you were really angry about something and your spouse told you to "just calm down." Worked like a charm, right?

When it comes to parenting and working with children in early childhood, there are a plethora of ideas and influences at our fingertips--literally. Social media, online forums and technology at large have expanded the "village" raising our children. This can be such a positive factor. It can also be overwhelming and at times, damaging. Our early childhood classrooms that were once a space for play and exploration are more and more filled with desks and chairs and expectations for children to achieve and perform. Our hours at home are no longer filled with the direction to "go out and play," but rather with extra-curricular activities and homework as early as preschool and kindergarten. And although our intentions are in the right place--we want our children to succeed--there is a price to pay and our children are footing the bill.

And they are not the only ones! Parents and educators are also paying a price. When it comes to early development, nobody tries to force a newborn infant to get up and walk. We know that first a baby must be able to support its head and then push up and then sit and in time, be able to move around and walk. There is an order of operations that are developmentally appropriate and we know that these require time and space and opportunity. We don't expect a newborn infant to verbally communicate upon arrival (wouldn't that be nice, though?) and we recognize that crying is their first language and respond accordingly. Furthermore, most folks aren't praising the quality of parenting or educating when babies do achieve developmental milestones or criticizing it when they move at a slower pace. But when you're the parent or teacher tending to a little one in the midst of a meltdown in the children's museum parking lot, you can bet someone has some unsolicited advice to give!

Let's face it: our little ones have BIG emotions. They tend to come in two sizes: large and extra large. Our emotional regulation center lies in the prefrontal cortex. This part of the brain, the one that helps us navigate big emotions, resolve conflict and control impulses, does not fully develop until the age of 25. So why do we expect young children to "self-regulate" before their bodies are ready to do so? The answer is likely multifaceted. We [adults] are often uncomfortable with big emotions. We like to "fix" things; we don't like when it looks "messy" or "out of control." We are also bombarded by images of smiling "well adjusted" children in classrooms, at home, outside, around town...not many of us post as many photos of the 4PM temper tantrum or the football hold on the toddler as you bolt out of the grocery store sans groceries...

But what if we stepped back and changed the language around "self-regulation." What if we introduced the concept as "co-regulation." Rather than setting expectations for our little ones to manage and control and express their big emotions on their own, what if we partnered with them to navigate those waves together. (And imagine also if we allowed that for ourselves as well!) It's not easy. It's hard to see our children hurt and angry and "out of control." We connect with it and whether or not our brains remember these very real moments of childhood, our bodies do. It's hard to be the teacher or parent with a child who is not conforming to that Facebook-friendly Image. We want to stop it, to fix it, to quell it, to stifle it. But if the eventual "goal" is for children to be able to regulate their large emotions, what tools are we giving them to do so?

I will wholeheartedly admit that while I did not struggle in this area so much as a teacher, it is much harder for me as a parent. With my own children, it gets personal. It's important for me to be able to slow myself down and move through my own large emotions while still tending to my children's while simultaneously separating the two! And tapping into my own tool belt includes (but is not limited) to the following:

What need is the behavior communicating? I believe all behaviors are forms of communication. That very newborn baby's first language is crying--it is, therefore, not surprising that many children resort to that first language or versions of it to communicate big emotions. If you can identify the need behind the behavior, it's easier to proceed. It can be tricky when one behavior communicates multiple needs either at different times or even at the same time.

Time and Space: Slow. Down. When emotions run high, we tend to put the pedal to the metal. Some children need time and space. While some folks are ready to swim against the wave, others need to let it flow over them and pass. Recognize that the way you navigate rough waters may be different than the way your children do and allow that to be OK. Also recognize that this might be even harder when the way you navigate those rough waters is the same. I am the type who sometimes needs that time and space, but I find it hard not to jump into problem solving mode when my children are hurting and need that time and space, not a hug and solution.

What's mention-able is manageable. Sometimes it just needs a name. Sometimes it doesn't need a solution, it doesn't need to be fixed, it just needs to be spoken. "You're really angry that your brother took your toy." "You're really disappointed that the video isn't working." Sometimes that is all that's needed to be able to move forward.

Proximity and Connection: All children need to feel connected to us and secure in that connection, especially in the moments of intense emotion. Not all children need or want physical connection or closeness in those moments. Some children do very well with a warm hug and a space on your lap. Others do best with you sitting nearby. Others do best with you sitting outside of the room. Sometimes it might be helpful to ask "would you like a hug?" Or "would you like me to sit by you?"

Laughter is the best medicine sometimes. Some children do very well with a silly distraction. Some do quite well with being redirected to another activity. Be mindful, however, if you perceive that a child needs support in sitting with and experiencing their large emotions first. Silliness and distraction can feel punitive or dismissive in these instances. On the other end of that, it's also useful to help young children navigate what to do when it is time to move on. Sometimes we can get stuck in these large emotions and we need a little help to step out of it and move forward.

Shut down and Reboot: This needs to always be an option. Our children need to know that sometimes it's OK to just give those big feelings a space and a time and let them out and then start over. They need to know that this is OK to do even multiple times in a day. We all  have days like that. We all remember that feeling of life just snowballing in front of us. We often underestimate how much our young children feel this, too. They need to know that one moment of one day does not define all of those other moments. This is how they will internalize that those big emotions do not, in fact, define them.

Play: It isn't a post on my blog if I don't mention the power of play. Playing about big emotions through modeling, role play and talking through characters is a great way for children to work through co-regulating big feelings outside of "the moment." My eldest recently got in trouble in school for something he didn't want to tell me about but he did want to tell his knit snake, "Snakey" about it and he asked if Snakey would tell Mommy. S told Snakey all about the incident and Snakey shared a similar experience with S. They talked about ways to handle it in the future; they had some giggles and Mommy was there in the background just in case they needed some support.

When to Bring in the Experts: As usual, I'm always a supporter of getting support. If you have a concern over a child's big emotions or even your own, it's helpful to get some perspective from an outside, subjective source. Sometimes it's all a matter of the tools you have. A plastic spoon is great for eating a yogurt; it is not great for changing a flat tire. The more tools you have, the more problems you can solve whether it's eating a yogurt or changing a flat tire--be prepared and arm yourself for both.

We'll be back soon and until then...

Happy Playing!