Several years ago, I tweeted the following:
I don’t even remember now what had caused my daughter to try to convince me of the hardships of first-grade life.
My initial reaction to her proclamation an internal eye-roll, along with thinking, “Being a kid is HARD? Are you KIDDING ME?” as I mentally ticked off all the reallysuperhard things that her grownup mama does — working full-time and cooking dinner and cleaning the house and making beds and paying bills and doing the grocery shopping … until I felt ready to be honored as a martyr at the Festival of Mothers Who Work Really Hard and Want Recognition Every Day {check your local newspaper for an event in your area.}
Let’s just say it was not a very skillful response.
I thought a bit more about my impulsive tweet. I started to realize how uninformed my reaction had been. Yes, as we adults look back on our childhood through our rose-colored {coke-bottle thick, circa-1983 round-frame} glasses, being a kid seems carefree and easy and full of whimsy. Coloring at school! Playing games! Riding bikes! How could that be hard?
But you know what?
EVERYONE’S HARD IS HARD. It’s all a matter of perspective. Tweet
I wanted to know more, so I asked my daughter just what was so hard about being a kid.
Her first answer didn’t surprise me. “Well, because you don’t have your own phone or iPad, and you can’t eat in the living room.”
I asked if anything else was hard about being a kid.
“Someone else is the boss of you,” she replied.
Now we were getting somewhere. Kids have to follow rules all day, rules that are set by others — the bus drivers, teachers, parents, coaches, and numerous other adults in their lives.
I asked if there was anything else. She said no, and ran off to play with her brother. {Such an easy life! … Oh, wait…}
I thought some more. What else is hard about being a kid?
I think a big part of it is that we don’t really take kids seriously.
There are times when I’ve responded to my children’s tears with “It’s not that bad,” or “You don’t need to be upset about that.” Because as a wizened adult, I of course understand that a cancelled playdate or a lost Star Wars figure is NO BIG DEAL. But for my little ones, who live almost entirely in the present moment, it iS a REALLY SUPER BIG DEAL.
Sometimes, when my children get angry and yell, I’ve responded with, “You don’t really mean that.” And though they very likely didn’t mean it {because I am CERTAIN they have not conducted the necessary research to determine that yours truly is the worst mother in the world}, it sends them the message that their words and emotions are not valid.
So my daughter says being a kid is hard, and I roll my eyes and tweet how ridiculous she is. I didn’t take her seriously. I was momentarily unwilling to take her perspective.
I wasn’t very compassionate in that moment.
Compassion literally means “to feel with” or “to suffer with” another person. It means seeing something the way they do, experiencing their pain with them, and desiring to make it better.
We don’t intentionally ignore these opportunities for compassion, but sometimes, in the crazybusyhectic moments of parenting, we respond unskillfully. We don’t take our children’s perspective, and we miss an opportunity for connection.
Though it’s hard to see our children in pain, it’s often easier to practice compassion in those moments. That’s when they actively seek our embrace, and desire the comfort we are hard-wired to provide when they suffer. It’s harder to respond with compassion when they’re misbehaving or throwing a fit, especially over something as ridiculously trivial seriously consequential as putting socks on in the morning or eating quinoa for dinner.
But it’s in precisely those moments when our children are acting in ways that are LEAST likely to evoke our sympathy that they need our compassion and connection the most!
Here’s what I’ve learned about being a more compassionate parent, especially in the moments when compassion may not come readily:
1. Sympathize with them, even when they sweat the small stuff.
The other day, my daughter had hoped to play with her friend after school, but her friend was busy. Within approximately 12 nanoseconds of us walking in the door, she threw her coat and shoes on the floor, and started sobbing hysterically. I hadn’t even taken off my coat, and in my frustration I was tempted to say, “It’s okay, it’s not a big deal!”
Instead, I gave her a big hug. I remembered the cues from How to Talk So Kids Will Listen, and Listen So Kids Will Talk, and said, “You seem really sad.” She then poured out how she had gotten so excited to play with her friend when we pulled up in the driveway, and now she couldn’t.
I empathized, telling her that sometimes I get upset when I’m really looking forward to something and then it doesn’t happen. I snuggled with her in the rocking chair for a few minutes, and she settled down as we talked about making dinner together. What could have escalated into a long crying jag and a night of pouting instead ended with a smiling little one.
2. Tell them how much you wish you could fix it.
This doesn’t mean doing it for them or solving their problems for them. It’s letting them know you wish you could make it easier. This also comes from How to Talk so Kids Will Listen {seriously, that book is INCREDIBLE}. When my son couldn’t find Iron Man the other morning before we left for school, he cried as I buckled him into the car, screaming that we HAD TO GO LOOK FOR HIM! I simply said, “I wish I knew where he was! I wish we could have found him this morning.” And he began to calm down.
Those little words let our kids know that we understand. It lets them know we care and that we really do wish it was better {and not just because we want the whining to stop. Well, maybe a little bit because we want the whining to stop.}
But it lets them know we get it.
3. Watch them while they sleep.
Sometimes they’re A LOT cuter at night.
I wrote this post about how watching my children sleep is a powerful nightly meditation, reminding me that they are NOT their tantrums. It reminds me of the sweet little ones underneath the crying and yelling and drama of daytime. It absolutely makes me more compassionate.
4. Understand it IS hard to be a kid.
They follow other people’s rules all day, and then come home to their parents’ rules. They have strong emotions that they can’t label or understand, let alone regulate. They get upset about little things because they don’t have decades of experience and perspective to guide them.
And they can’t even eat in the living room. That SUCKS.
So the next time you’re tempted to roll your eyes at your little one’s tantrum, see if you can un-roll those eyes and see the situation from your child’s perspective. It can make a world of difference.
Everyone’s hard is hard. Even for kids. Practice compassion. Tweet
Want to learn more about how to be a calm, present, and compassionate parent? Check out Mindfulness for Mothers!
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- WAIT: A Mindfulness Practice for Waiting in Line - December 9, 2019
