Tag: sensitive

Structuring the Unstructured

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Spider Boy is many things. Inquisitive. Observant. Independent. Imaginative. Playful. Funny. Sweet. But he is also highly-sensitive and spirited. I’m not much into labels, but I’ve found these to be helpful ones in that they’ve given us a foundation to work with to figure out how best to support him. The best description I’ve found to describe this comes from Raising Your Spirited Child: “Spirited kids are, in fact, simply ‘more’ — by temperament, they are more intense, sensitive, perceptive, persistent, and uncomfortable with change than the average child.” I laughed the first time I read that — “more” is exactly the word I would have used to describe Spider Boy — but over the years what has really come into play is that bit about being more “uncomfortable with change than the average child.”

This year being his first year of preschool, this discomfort with change became a noticeably large hurdle for us, whether it was special days at school like holidays or Crazy Hair Day, or weeks off from school for vacations, it didn’t take much change to throw him off. However, this year also made us realize just how much he thrives on routine and structure, and how much better he does when he has information about what to expect. It has been a bit of a struggle for me — I’m more of a play-it-by-ear kind of gal — but I’m learning through trial and error what works and what doesn’t. So what to do with the luxury of a long, unstructured summer? I remember them fondly from my own childhood, but the major regression after just one unstructured week for spring break made me quickly realize we needed something to help structure our 14-week-long summer.

Since spring break, we’ve experimented with the idea of a more regular routine. I realized I had it in my head that a routine was more like a high school schedule — first bell at 7:05 am, first period starts at 7:15 am, second period starts at 7:52 am, etc. That kind of thing is crazymaking for me! But the good news is that Spider Boy doesn’t need anything that explicit — he just needs to know that generally speaking, by 9 am we’re going to be ready to get out of the house and do something fun, and here are the steps we will take to get us there. We won’t be doing exactly the same thing at the same time every day, but generally we will be doing one or more of the same things in the same 1-2 hour period each day. I posted our routine up where he can see it — you can see a sample here — and he loves to ask what time it is and then run over to “the schedule,” as he calls it, to see what we’re going to do next. This has been working fairly well for us, once we worked out a few kinks, but on non-school days we have still had a little too much wiggle room for comfort. Enter my (un)structuring brainstorm.

We’re starting the summer by “celebrating” a letter each day. I am not making any other changes to our routine — we are doing essentially the same kinds of things that we would have done on non-school days previously — just adding the focus of a letter each day. So the books we read begin with that letter, the yoga poses we use in Spirit Time begin with that letter, everywhere we go when we see something that begins with that letter we call it out, etc. Once we’re done with the alphabet, we’ll move on to colors, shapes, and numbers. We’ve just finished our first week, and it was surprisingly successful, however it was also a transitional week that included a sensory camp held at Spider Boy’s school the same days he would have had preschool, so next week will be the true test.

My plan is to write up notes for what we do each week — what worked and what didn’t, along with the books/videos/excursions/etc. that I’ve found for each topic — so that if you find yourself in a similar boat with a spirited and/or highly sensitive child, you can find some inspiration here. I would love to hear what is working for you and your families this summer as well — please share your ideas in the comments!

Week One: A-B-C-D-E
Week Two: F-G-H-I-J
Week Three: K-L-M-N-O
Week Four: P-Q-R-S-T
Week Five: U-V-W-X-Y-Z

Recommended Reading

The Highly Sensitive Child: Helping Our Children Thrive When the World Overwhelms Them, by Elaine Aron
Raising Your Spirited Child: A Guide for Parents Whose Child Is More Intense, Sensitive, Perceptive, Persistent, and Energetic, by Mary Sheedy Kurcinka
The Strong, Sensitive Boy, by Ted Zeff

photo: bridging knowledge to health by paul bica
Want to learn more about mindful parenting? Now through June 10th there’s an AMAZING opportunity to receive 20+ resources covering topics such as gentle parenting, self-care for parents, creativity and play, children and food, spirituality, and more. If you choose to purchase the bundle through my website, I will get a portion of the proceeds. Win win!

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It’s All My Fault!

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“Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.”
~ Hermann Hesse

The last couple of months have been tough ones at our house, for a variety of reasons. I have been in the process of coming off of a long-term medication, with unfortunate and adverse effects; I was responsible for creating the catalog for a recent fundraising auction, which took the bulk of my attention for many weeks; the pollen counts have been through the roof and the whole family has been coughing, sniffly, sneezy, and headachy; my husband has had to work some nights and weekends; and my boys have been their usual incredibly sensitive selves, where even slight challenges or changes get magnified by that lens of sensitivity. Often, when the boys start to “act out,” I know it’s a sign that I am uncentered and need to take steps to ground and recharge, so this past week I was working hard to do my part to restore order from the chaos . . . with mixed results, due at least in part to how out of whack everything had gotten.

By Saturday, the delicate balance in our family looked more like an off-balance washing machine, so it wasn’t necessarily surprising when a straw broke my proverbial camel’s back and I snapped. In a fit of frustration, I started saying, “Fine, it’s all my fault! I get it!” I was frustrated with myself more than anything, but I had been running on empty far too long, and all of my pent up anger and frustration and exhaustion started leaking out. Thankfully the grouchiness didn’t last–with help from my mum and my husband, we were able to turn the energy around in that statement. If it truly was all my fault, then I could also be “blamed” for the gorgeous weather, the abundance at the farmer’s market, the shade from the trees, and the scent of orange blossoms in the air. Writing about it now I can feel the shift inside again, the healing laughter that it created and my sense that I could just let go of “responsibility” alongside “blame.”

Letting go is truly empowering. Yes, of course, it is probably the highest form of empowerment to recognize that by shifting myself  (my thoughts, my energy, etc.) I can shift the world around me, however that knowledge can also be crazymaking when things aren’t going as well as you expect/hope/want. As a parent, I need reminding from time to time to let go, to not hold on so tight. There’s a happy balance in there where you find your sea legs, staying present and aware of what’s happening so you can shift where you need to, while holding on to any expectations you have of the outcome gently, letting go of the worry and replacing it with, say, curiosity about what will happen next.

As a write this, it’s another absolutely beautiful day that I’m happy to take credit for, but I’m also happy to not be responsible for it. I am happy to leave the care of my children in the hands of others for a few hours while I reboot and recharge and dream of what curiosity will bring. No matter how bad things get, no matter how awful and guilty and grouchy I feel, there is always more good than not. There is always more good than not. Namaste.

Love is all you need

Angel

When I woke up this morning, there was nothing to suggest that this day would offer up a zen parenting moment. Life since the baby was born has involved a lot of sharp contrasts, extreme emotions playing out across each family member in a variety of ways. Our two-year-old son has been the hardest hit, especially since we had to move a week after his baby brother was born. We have spent the 3+  months since then observing him very closely, following his lead wherever possible in an attempt to return a sense of stability and security to his world.

The word I would have used to categorize today was “overly.” He was overly tired, overly sensitive, overly frustrated. Despite this, we managed to eke out a few enjoyable moments during our Halloween festivities this morning, then brought him home for an early nap. Unfortunately, that nap got started in the car, often the kiss of death for the rest of the day. As usual, this gave him the false sense of a second wind, and just intensified the “overly” he had already been feeling. It took several hours, but he finally succumbed to a deep, late-afternoon nap.

When he woke up a couple of hours later, he was disoriented and out of sorts. I went in to him and just rubbed his back. He settled almost immediately and we stayed like that for a minute or two. He’s never been a particularly cuddly baby, so at one point I straightened and removed my hand. He started crying and got up on his knees, grabbing my hand and pulling it back into the crib. I got back to rubbing his back and just breathing with him. I asked him if he wanted to cuddle in my bed, a new favorite pastime of his that often doesn’t include much recognizable “cuddling.” He grabbed his hippo lovey and let me carry him into the master bedroom.

I was already feeling pretty blessed to have had such an intimate moment with him, and was expecting this to shift into a more familiar silly and riled up moment. But his energy was still really quiet and subdued, so I wasn’t entirely surprised when he wanted to lay down on me as his pillow. After a few attempts, we found a position that worked well for both of us — a half sitting hug of sorts — and settled into it. That is when the magic happened.

Simply put, I held him. My arms were around him, hugging him, stroking his hair, expressing my love wordlessly. My mind was fully and completely focused on him in this moment. While I did send him Reiki, mostly out of habit, there was much more of a sense of “being” rather than “doing” to this experience. There were no expectations, no wandering off into analyzing what this all meant, no trying to figure out what he needed and whether or not I was meeting that need. It felt like I was listening to him on another plane of existence, listening to his need with an inner ear and answering it with my energetic love. We just breathed in and out and hugged each other, occasionally shifting our weight to get more comfortable, but mostly just staying completely still.

We stayed there for what felt like an hour but was probably less than ten minutes. His dad came in with his brother and they curled up on the bed with us, but it was like we were in our own bubble. And at the end of that time, whenever he had finished refueling, filling himself up with the love being offered him, he pushed off of me and said, “Mommy, let’s go play.” And then he slipped off the bed and ran into the living room.

Young children are so pure, so uncluttered, so simple. I don’t want to confuse “simple” with “easy” or even “basic.” But generally, they wear their needs on their sleeves, and if you’re paying attention and have the right vocabulary and your own batteries are charged up, those needs can be relatively easily met. But those three things — paying attention, having the right vocabulary, and making sure your own batteries are charged — are the most often missed. The complexity we experience as parents so often lies in our own lives, our own experiences, and how we learn to balance our needs with those of our children such that we can both grow and thrive in that experience of love.

Before I started down this path of motherhood, I feared that becoming a parent would mark an end to my spiritual journey. I have learned so much in the last 2+ years, so much that has informed the way I walk this earth, and on days like today, I recognize that it was not only a beginning, but perhaps the only way for me to truly experience the divine. Today I was blessed to experience true grace. As my son ran off down the hall, I was filled with both gratitude and the desire to share my spiritual journey once again, this time from the perspective of mother. Thank you for joining me on this blessed journey!

Originally published on Pachamama Spirit