March 21, 2011 ~ Day 102 Big Step Backward(...tiptoeing ahead)

It takes a lot to make my husband angry. He is just not the angry type. Sure, there are days when he *really* needs his coffee and other times when I notice that a bike ride might improve the general atmosphere ~ but overall he's got a very mellow, gentle heart and isn't one to become 'all fired up'.

This is why, when I entered our home last night after my first Pilates Therapy session, I knew something must really have gone wrong. My sweet tempered husband was furious, in a very controlled way.

"Our son is in his room. He will not be joining us for dinner," he snapped. "He is in a world of trouble with me."

"What happened?"

"While we were driving to the bike store he threw a LARGE ROCK at (our smaller son)'s head which made IMPACT! then bounced off and hit the windshield. He could have gotten us into a major car accident. He is VERY lucky that the windshield didn't break."

"Oh no. How is the little guy doing?" I asked, rushing toward the kitchen where the smaller children were eating.

"He's okay. It was a real shock to him though to get hit by that rock, he cried for a while."

Having made certain that there were no lumps, dents or cuts left over from the rock attack, I turned back to my husband.

"So, what did you do with the older one? Throwing rocks in the car is definitely unacceptable. Did he do it on purpose? Has he had a consequence?"

"Yes, it was definitely thrown on purpose. And yes, he got into BIG trouble with me in the car. I told him this was unacceptable and there would be a serious consequence. I'm not sure yet what that should be. He says he isn't hungry and doesn't want any dinner, so I gave him a shower and he's in bed now."

"Oh dear. Honey, he has to eat."

"I know! Maybe you can talk to him."


Sighing, I edged toward the bedroom that our three children share. Since the other two were still eating homemade kale and white bean soup, I hoped this would give the eldest boy and me the opportunity to have a private heart-to-heart.

KnockKnockKnock. "Honey? Can mommy come in?"

There was a muffled reply. Gingerly I opened the door and saw that my son had wrapped himself in all of his covers so that only his eyes and nose were showing. Despite the darkness in the room, I could see the tears welling in his eyes.

It was easy to see that he felt very badly about what had happened - both hurting his brother AND getting in trouble with his daddy, who he worships. This son truly does have a warm and caring heart; it's impulse control that we're working on.

Sitting quietly next to him, I gave his sobbing little body a big hug. It was easy to see that this child needed love more than a lecture at that moment. "Little man," I gently asked. "Can you tell me what happened?"

After a few moments spent trying to convince me that he hadn't done anything and it was all his brother's fault, the truth came out. "But mommy," he added, once he had finished telling me about the rock, "You don't give me enough lunch and that sandwich wasn't big enough and I'M HUNGRY!!!! And I don't know why but I do bad things when I'm hungry." He snuffled into his arm, "I can't control myself."

I smiled in the dark; actually a bit impressed that my son could be this self-aware. Hypoglycemia runs in my side of the family and my husband learned very early on in our relationship not to let me get too hungry ~ because when my blood sugar drops I become either heinously grouchy or ridiculously indecisive.

Counting back, I realized that my son probably hadn't eaten anything more than a handful of potato chips in eight hours. Hunger really could have played a significant part in his lack of self control, this time around.

"Buddy," I consoled. "I think there is something we can do about all of this, to help you make better choices. I know you know *how* to control your behavior because you do it all of the time so well. You control your anger at school, on sports teams, on playdates, with your grandparents and even at the doctor's office. It is only with your brother that you seem to really let it fly.

I understand that you need a safe space in which to release your feelings when you feel sad, mad or frustrated. You just need to understand that your brother is NOT that safe space. We can find other ways for you to release that energy."

Together we then came up with three ways in which he could get a safe outlet for his pent-up emotions: eating, exercising or working on his journal (the notebook 'blog' he's been laboring over every day) in privacy.

"This is what grownups do, when they have a hard day or a frustration," I explained. "It is totally normal to have lots of feelings, some of which are grumpy. Everyone feels happy, sad, excited, angry, hopeful or annoyed sometimes. Grownups find the way that works for them to release those feelings so that they don't hurt anyone. And everyone has their own way of doing it."

"Do you feel mad sometimes mommy? What do you do to get better?" he asked.

"Well honey, when I'm feeling lousy I write. I write in my journal, or a letter to a friend, or I work on the blog I am putting together for you and your brother and sister. I release my emotions through writing."

"I like to write, too!"

"That's great honey. And there are many other ways to let go of mad feelings too. Your daddy gets out his emotions on the bicycle. Your uncle goes surfing. Your Mima prays. Everyone finds their own way to get back into balance. Also, you may find out that on one day eating makes you feel better but on another day, you might want to dance around or even take a nap."

We talked a little longer and agreed that his job is to work on becoming aware of the moments when he feels like he is about to lash out at his brother. When he feels this coming on, I encouraged him to call out to me - "Mommy, I need a safe space!"

"I promise that I will listen to you if you say this to me," I added. "And I will act quickly to help you prevent any fights from happening."

He then agreed to join us at the dinner table and at the table we explained to his daddy and brother the new plan. "If you feel like your brother may be about to get angry with you," I said to the little one, "You need to call out - "Mommy! Brother needs a safe space RIGHT NOW!""

"How about just calling out - 'Safe Space!'" my husband asked. "That seems faster and more to the point."

"Sure, perfect."

We ended family time directly after dinner, with the boys still a bit cautious around each other. One son didn't want to get hurt again and the other didn't want to get in trouble again. My husband suggested that I contact our new play therapist to see if she had any advice for an appropriate consequence. "I don't know what to do here," he said. "If I had thrown a rock at someone in the car when my father was driving, I would have gotten spanked."

I agreed to contact her, and did so with a fairly heavy heart before going to bed.

This morning I vowed to stay on top of my parenting game, as I knew my husband would be out of town and the buck stopped with me to head off any sibling friction. I was uber-organized, staying up well past midnight to make sandwiches and pack lunches; have the bowls and spoons ready for oatmeal, laying out their clothing in advance. I made sure to leave plenty of time for the school run, knowing full well that there would be at least one morning tantrum thrown by at least one child.

More importantly, I really stayed on top of checking in with my son emotionally all day. "How are you doing?" I asked. "How are you feeling?"

Every time I could hear in his voice that he was edging toward whiny or frustrated I immediately asked, "Do you need a safe space right now?"

In this way I intercepted a fight over who got to ride the scooter; who got to sit in the middle of the couch for "Caillou" and who got served a second helping of dinner first. It was not a perfect day ~ twice I caught him hurting his brother. Still, there was one great moment when he shouted "Mommy, Safe Space!" and headed off his own potential conflict.

Another wonderful moment - when the little brother called out "Safe Space, Safe space!" and I rushed in to find the older one with fist clenched and drawn back, not having hit yet.

"Are you hungry?" I asked - and the fight was averted.

I'm not sure yet whether this new strategy will pay off in the long term, or even what our therapist actually thinks of it. She kindly wrote me back today and suggested that I pick up a copy of a book called "Wheel of Choice" and then co-create a unique Wheel of Choice with our son giving him multiple options for how to solve the stresses or frustrations that he is experiencing... using the "Get a Snack", "Exercise", or "Private Journaling Time" as three of his choices on the wheel.

I haven't had much time to look into the Wheel of Choice she mentioned yet but it seems very interesting. Once again I am so impressed with this therapist who clearly knows a great deal about positive discipline and parenting. I'm so grateful to have found her, and glad I came to the conclusion that it didn't matter that she lives in our neighborhood. Help is help - and we need help.

Tonight when I put the kids to bed, I gave each son a high-five for managing to make it through the entire day fairly peacefully. "Nice work guys!" I hugged them. "I'm so proud of you both."

I know it is only one day; but even a single day without the stress of emotional conflict is a good day for me. I'm grateful for the respite from battle. I'm grateful for the opportunity my boys have to become better friends when they actually manage to spend time together without friction. I'm especially grateful for the fact that they're always willing to try out the wacky ideas I come up with to try to resolve our family problems... and that I'm still optimistic enough to keep coming up with new solutions to try out.

So... one giant step backward, but still persistently (stubbornly!) inching forward in the best way we know how.

Onward and upward :-)

March 1, 2011 ~ Day 82 Helping Hands

I guess it is no secret that I was feeling pretty raw when I wrote last night's blog about the protracted torture of my younger son by his elder brother, because today I have been blessed by an outpouring of love and sympathetic understanding from a handful of cherished friends who are also mothers.

Thank you so much.

I don't typically write follow-up or companion pieces but since this is the issue that has been at the forefront of my heart and actions today, I thought I would describe a conversation I engaged in with a play therapist over the telephone about everything going on in our home. She gave me some really concrete advice, which I immediately took to heart and embraced.

After giving her a nutshell version of the past three years with my sons, she gave me four main pieces of wisdom:

First, she told me to reframe the way I look at the situation with my eldest son. "Rather than thinking "What is *wrong* with you?" when he does something terrible to his brother," she said, "Remind yourself that he had a rough entry into the world (with the 60 hour labor) and frame it for yourself that he is doing the absolute best he can and really hanging in there despite a relatively tough beginning. Give him the benefit of the doubt and think of him with compassion."

She then told me that my expectations about my son and my fears about his actions will all come across in my tone and the way I react to him, and that it is important not to create a self-fulfilling prophecy where I treat him as though he is going to turn out as a violent or disturbed adult and then he unconsciously meets my unspoken expectation.

Second, she told me that it is actually a really good sign that he acts out at home with me rather than in the classroom, at the homes of friends or with his grandparents, etc. "As a therapist, this is actually the scenario that we would most hope for," she described. "As hard as his behavior is on you, the fact that he is letting it all out at home tells me that he feels safe and unconditionally loved in your home and family unit so he can 'let it all hang out' there, without fear that you will stop loving him."

Then she advised me that there should be some middle ground - a way in which he can act out his aggressions without inflicting them upon an actual human being (i.e. his brother). "Do you have a back yard?" she asked, "Do you have a tree? If so, when he feels like hitting his brother he can grab a pillow or a foam swim noodle and hit the tree with it instead. He is only five years old so asking him to completely extinguish his instinctual behavior is unrealistic. Instead, consider asking him to modify his behavior. If he really wants to kick or punch something, have him kick or punch his bed."

All of this excellent advice brought to mind something his first preschool teacher shared with me three years ago when he was just two years old and actively biting his baby brother. "If he wants to bite," she'd said, "Give him a wet rag - maybe even a frozen wet rag so it will feel good on his gums - and let him bite that. It will satisfy the urge and give him a place to get rid of his anger safely, without hurting the baby."

I had completely forgotten about that until now.

The last piece of advice the play therapist gave to me was perhaps the most profound. I had asked her whether she accepted our health insurance, which she does not. We discussed out of network fees, deductibles and other bureaucratic details... but before we ended our conversation she asked me to think about one thing.

"Given your financial situation," she said, "I can see why you may want to consider finding an in-network play therapist. However, before making your decision please consider this. You may wish to pay privately to consult with a therapist rather than going through insurance companies, because once a mental health diagnosis is given and recorded on his insurance record, it will stay there forever. Do you really want this sibling rivalry issue dogging him for the rest of his life?"

What a kind woman to share this information with me! I had reached for the telephone to call her based on the recommendation of a dear friend (thank you, K!!!) coupled with my own gut instinct. I obviously had not taken the time to think through what potentially using our insurance coverage to enroll our son in a few sessions of play therapy would mean for his long-term future.

I adore my son and I am not ready to make *any* choice that will even possibly affect the rest of his life~his ability to receive insurance coverage~his school and work records. Land sakes, he is only five years old! Everyone in life deserves second chances, and I feel like at his age he deserves fiftieth and one hundredth chances. He has so much potential and is such an incredible human being in so many ways. I am not ready to slap a label on him (e.g. "Adjustment Disorder!") and I am not eager for anyone else to do so either. He is HIMSELF. He is amazing. He is difficult. He is artistic and sensitive. He is my complex, much loved son.

My husband and I talked all of this over tonight during what was supposed to be a romantic dinner date (note to self - do NOT discuss children on romantic dinner dates!!!) and agreed that it will be worth the money for us to pay privately and go together a few times to meet with this play therapist to learn how we can parent our son more effectively and be a strong team for each other in the process.

We're not sure if our son himself will ever actually make it to a therapist's office, but we did agree that we both need help in learning how to respond to our child's words, moods and actions. It's nice to be on the same page about this.

At the end of the day, the friction between my sons may well turn out to be something I have unwittingly instigated or perpetuated. Who knows, there may be some big changes that I need to make in my parenting style! Whatever happens, I am 100% up for it and open to learning. "Please, be honest with me about my own parenting behaviors and ways of thinking," I encouraged her. "I love my son with all my heart and if there is something that I can alter in myself or my own behavior or parenting style that will help to nurture him and make him a happy (and reasonably kind) sibling, I will do whatever it takes."

So that is where we are at, as of now. I am feeling so much more optimistic and proactive. I can nearly see a path forward and a potential light at the end of the tunnel of carnage, where yesterday evening I saw none at all.

Perhaps my eldest son could sense my relief, for he is a sensitive and intuitive kid. When I picked him up from school this afternoon he confided, "Mommy, I think I'm going to earn one of those 'family tickets' for acting good tonight and I do not think I will hit my brother at all because we both love our grandma and we are going to have a lot of fun with her tonight while you are on your date with Daddy."

I'm so happy to wrap up this blog by reporting that for the first time in weeks, both boys DID indeed earn their special family tickets tonight (for treating each other gently with no fighting... even when we were stuck on the freeway in traffic and they were both exhausted!) which puts them each one step closer to earning the special toy of their choice... and puts me one small step closer to creating an atmosphere of genuine peace and contentment in our family life.

It may not be much... but it's a start!

February 28, 2011 ~ Day 81 Brother vs. Brother

I am at my wit's end, which I suppose literally means that I no longer have any witty remarks to make about the ferocious sibling rivalry between my sons. It is getting arduous - physically arduous for my younger son, and mentally arduous for my husband and I as we try to mediate and protect.

I'll be completely honest here and say that I really do not understand what is going on with our eldest kid right now. Maybe an enlightened reader with siblings - or a parent with multiple kids older than ours - will come across this post someday and share their views, which I would welcome. I was the youngest of five much older siblings and spent most of my childhood as an only child. I do not understand sibling rivalry first hand, and I was completely blindsided by its force nearly four years ago when our second boy entered the world.

My husband and I have done everything we've ever heard of to try to mitigate the feelings of displacement that our eldest might have after gaining a baby brother. His little brother came into our lives bearing gifts: literally. Before his birth we made the suggested run to Target to purchase a very cool toy (in this case, an awesome musical guitar that played the Michael Jackson hit "1-2-3" and other fun sounds) which our newborn baby "gave" to his big brother at the moment they first met. Big brother loved the guitar and appeared not to mind the baby, for a while.

We had been advised about the importance of sticking with routine and making sure to pay maximal attention to the oldest child during the transition period. "Your second child will never know the difference, having always had a sibling to share with and never knowing it any other way. The oldest child will feel every change and every moment of sharing his/her parents' attention acutely," we'd read, so we paid special attention to our eldest after the new kid hit the block.

We are equal in all things with them. We give them individual attention, take them on private "dates" with mommy and daddy. We buy them the same toys, matching shirts, etc. all in the hope of making sure they don't feel that we prize one above the other. We make a big deal about each of their individual successes, but always sure to simultaneously express great pride in the accomplishments of the other child as well.

I think it was when we'd moved to our condo three years ago, and the baby brother was just starting to crawl, that things began to go haywire. As soon as he could actually get into his big brother's toys - rather than just gazing at them from afar, the crud really hit the fan.

Suddenly my husband and I had a violent dynamo on our hands... biting, hitting, kicking, even trying to choke the baby. It got so bad we had not one but two conferences with his preschool teacher to ask for advice and to make sure that he wasn't demonstrating these behaviors at school. Nope, as it turned out - not at all. In fact, she was shocked. "I adore him," she said. "We have a special bond. He is an angel. I have never seen him be mean even once. If anything, he is very shy at school."

Despite her assurances, the misery at home persisted. It got to the point where the only thing that actually mitigated his behavior was the quiet promise from us (his parents) that if he didn't shape up and treat his brother better, we would tell his teacher how terribly he was acting at home. "No!!!!!!!" he would scream. "Not Miss Lauren!!!!!"* As it turned out, he felt the same way about his grandmother, their good opinion held a lot of influence with him. Somehow he wanted both of them to think that he was incapable of meanness, which also perplexed me. Why were we, his parents, allowed to see the 'worst' but he could control the behavior in all other venues?

Three years later, it has never really let up.

I know it goes without saying that we love both of our sons, differently but with equal strength. They are very different children with very different personalities, so it would be impossible to hold carbon copy feelings for them. Losing either one would destroy us, without any question. Which is perhaps why it tortures me to witness the violence and meanness the elder brother consistently showers upon the little one, even now.

When he thinks I am not looking, he puts his hands around his brother's neck and tries to choke him. He grabs hunks of his hair and pulls it hard. He makes mean scary faces right in his little brother's face and growls. He punches him in the back and stomach. He knocks him off his bike. He steals his favorite toys and hides them. He backs him into corners menacingly.

I realize that they are ages 5.5 and 3.5, and that maybe some of this is normal? I keep hoping that he is going to grow out of this phase.

That said, I consistently dread 3:15pm because it is the time when I must pick up my eldest from school and watch as our day disintegrates into a house full of screaming, shrieking, consequences and time-out. The hours between 3:15 and 8:15 are like a drain on my personal energy pool, sucking me so dry that by the time I get my kids to bed I am ready to sit in perfect silence doing nothing but staring into space for an hour, just to regroup.

Tonight my husband sweetly took our kiddos down to visit their grandfather and get hamburgers for dinner, a fun treat. You would think they would return in good spirits, no? Yet from the moment they entered the house my eldest was angry at his brother, knocking him off of the stepstool when it was time to brush teeth and pulling his hair hard in the kitchen when I was pouring bedtime drinks.

My husband said it had been like this all night, and that he had already taken away the privilege of dessert. When reminded of this, our son stormed off into his room screaming and yelling at us "What??!?!!! You poo poos! You little meanies!" and he came back holding a toy fighter airplane that he proceeded to 'shoot' at us.

My husband sent him to time out for cursing at his parents and he dissolved into a high pitched tired against us, then returned and began throwing things at me. This time my husband brought him back to his room and told him it was time for bed.

As I tucked our smaller boy in to bed a few minutes later, we had a heartbreaking conversation.


"Mommy, why is my brother so mean to me?"

"Honey, I'm so sorry that he treats you badly. You are both very special to us and it hurts me to see you fighting."

"I forgive him. I love him, mommy. But..." and he looked at me with brimming eyes, "...my brother does not love me."

"Oh honey, yes he does. I think your brother loves you a lot. He is just sensitive and sometimes can get emotional."

"No mommy," he shook his head. "My brother does NOT love me. He loves my sister, but not me."


What does one say to this? Deep down I really believe that my eldest son loves his little brother, but he sure doesn't show it. Do I tell the little one to keep putting up with physical and mental abuse heaped on him daily because the two of them are family? How do I help my smaller child avoid internalizing the role of victim (any more than he has already done) and also keep my eldest from becoming a terrible bully?

I have asked my friends with boys whether they have these problems, and the painful truth is that I do not have a single friend who has confessed experiencing situations of this magnitude. Granted, we have very few friends with multiple boys. But I think I have at least four close girlfriends who have more than one son and I have never seen a single one of their boys inflicting harm upon his brother. I do not know a single mother whose children have drawn blood from each other while hitting each other in the head, and it has already happened in our family twice.

Before we had our youngest child - a daughter, I wondered so often if it was something in the way I was parenting that caused this intra-familial strife. Yet she has proven to be angelically adorable and our eldest cherished and protected her from the first moment. He treats her like a queen. "We are like peas and carrots," he says. "We stick together." Apparently she does not pose the same challenge to his crown as reigning son; instead, she has become his delighted and adoring minion.

I don't know how to end this post, because it truly seems that there is no end in sight. Even my genial husband, usually unflappable in the face of child angst, has grown weary and frustrated with the constant aggression. "He was at it all afternoon," he sighed tonight, "It needs to stop".

I am left then, feeling like we are parenting in a small boat hurtling through rocky uncharted waters. As I do every night, I am praying for divine guidance or enlightenment... we need a life preserver, or an extra oar. I am praying that tomorrow will be a better day for my sons (and thus, for all of us).



*Name of the party in question changed to protect their privacy.