Simplicity Parenting (9 page)

The first step then, toward taking care of our child’s soul fever, just as with a physical fever, is noticing it. And there will be times when just that—our noticing—will be enough for a child to feel bolstered, supported, understood. When we think back to our childhoods (as our children will to theirs), these small acts of noticing can form the emotional foundation of “home” or “family”: the place where we were “read,” understood, held in balance. And in adult life—in marriage and business—isn’t it easy to see whose emotional landscapes were not well read? The symptoms are the same—pouting, tantrums, icy withdrawal—but they get more convoluted as we get older. As parents we can be thankful for our six-year-old’s dramatically furrowed brow, his slouchy posture, his mumbled responses, his big sighs. And when he doesn’t even laugh at his sister’s silly dancing you know—thank heavens that subtlety and subterfuge are still beyond him—that something is really bothering him. “Sweetheart, what’s up?”

Symptoms that are missed or ignored tend to worsen, or disappear and reappear in a stronger form, until the internal conflict is addressed. There are a couple of reasons why noticing a child’s soul fever can be difficult. Parents who are very busy and preoccupied, overloaded themselves, can miss the initial signs of a child’s unease. This happens, just as it’s possible to miss the first signs of a physical fever. And as parents, we don’t want to develop our own hair-trigger response to a child’s normal emotional ups and downs. A pout, a bad mood: These come and go. Like the sniffles, or a bump on the knee, their effects are temporary, easily shaken. But a soul fever lingers. Years ago it might have been called a growing pain, both inevitable and painful. And while it may not seem like much to us (compared with the stresses of adult life), there is some sense of loss associated with these growing pains. When you imagine the incredible rate at which children change and evolve, you can begin
to see how their heart sometimes resists the adjustment. They must let go of comforts and assurances with one hand to have both hands free to reach ahead, to pull toward some new level of maturity.

Understandably, life’s pace and pressures can sometimes distract a parent from the signs of their child’s soul fever. Yet when a child’s emotional distress is routinely ignored, they will usually, consciously or unconsciously, find other ways to solicit attention. Parental attention is the safest and most convenient, especially when one is displaying all of one’s “nasty bits” (as one four-year-old described a tantrum). But if a child can’t garner attention from their parents, then attention from someone else will do; and if they can’t attract compassionate attention, any form of attention can seem like a worthwhile substitute.

On the flip side of parental busyness, what I’ve noticed often lately are children whose behavior is already so “pumped up,” so frenetic and on edge, that it’s hard to notice when they’re emotionally agitated. For children whose “norm” has become an elevated emotional state, and whose daily lives are rushed and pressured, there’s little equilibrium to measure against, no “set point” or normal temperature to judge by. When this is the case, children can very quickly get into trouble, manifesting extreme behavior just to say something quite simple: “I need a break.”

Quieting Things Down

Physical Fever:
There it is: a fever, an upset stomach, a nasty cough. Once we’ve noticed that our child isn’t feeling well, what do we do? We stop our normal routines. Even as we’re trying to figure out how we can possibly accommodate the change, we’re making the announcement: “No school for you, love,” or “Oh dear, let’s tell Erin you can play another day, but right now you need to rest.” Everyone else may gather at the table for dinner, but this child is off the regular eating routines and foods. They’ve been pulled out of the normal flow of daily life—the chores and activities, the comings and goings—and allowed to take a passive role, to be within the group while outside the action.

Soul Fever:
So, you’ve noticed, and something is definitely up. No matter how fast they’re spinning (figuratively, or, in the case of the little ones, sometimes literally), they’re actually exhausted, quite undone. With emotional overload or soul fever, just as a physical fever, once noticed,
it is time to stop normal routines. Children may resist this, but at times they seem to be almost pulling you to a stop with clingy behavior and an uncharacteristic avoidance of anything new.

As when a child is ill, there is now a shift in the normal flow of family activities, an accommodation that needs to be made. Certainly the child needs to take a break from after-school activities; they might even need to stay home from school. A parent decides the length and breadth of the change for a little one. For a middle school child, you might consult with the child, still making the final decision. And for a teenager, you collaborate on the best way to make sure they really take a step back, and out, from the pressures they are feeling.

Most children, no matter what their age, can reset their emotional clock given two or three quiet days. One restful, simplified weekend is usually enough to make the difference, to break a soul fever. It affords enough space and grace to loosen an emotional knot.

When there’s a real problem that underlies the soul fever, I’m not suggesting that a quiet weekend will directly address the issue. But it will help your child maintain the resiliency they need to address it. Especially with older kids, who may be dealing with difficulties at school, with friends or romances, a quiet weekend is not a cure-all. But I still contend that it can be one of the best medicines. Our impulse as a parent may be to jump in and “make everything better,” which is impossible, and more clearly so as our children mature. But their success in facing and resolving issues depends on their ability to work through their emotions, to regulate their physical and emotional energy. That’s when a little retreat, a break in the normal routine, can really help.

Early on in my eldest daughter’s second-grade year, she told us about a girl in her class, Myrna, who was often “silly and nasty.” We weren’t quite sure what that combination meant, but we could tell that she was wary of Myrna. Midyear, however, the silly/nasty threat seemed to be close at hand, and our daughter was clearly being affected. She did not want to talk about it. Yet she was dragging her way through breakfast and getting dressed, even though she usually couldn’t wait to get to school. “You okay, love?” Her soft yes was unconvincing. She took a day off school, and between my schedule and her mother’s, spent some time with each of us, at home and running errands.

The next day, I decided to bring some of the security of home to school. I walked her in that morning and lingered while she showed me her desk and recent work. I made sure to meet her after school that
afternoon, and for the rest of the week. We would take our time, hanging a bit among her classmates before we walked home. We never addressed the issue head-on, and perhaps it resolved itself in a mysterious kidlike way. But over the week I could feel her step lighten, her shoulders settle, her mood become easy and playful again.

Parents of teenagers may pick up the signs of a soul fever in their child, but they won’t necessarily know what’s bothering them. I’ve found that (yes, this is a generalization, but one based on experience) with a girl, you may only need to say this once, whereas you might need to drop it casually a few times to a boy: “Something’s up; I’ve noticed. I’m here if you want to talk about it.” Even if your teenage son or daughter won’t open up about what’s upsetting them, you can still be available to them. And you can still suggest a pullback from normal routines. “You don’t have to tell me what’s up, but I can tell something’s going on, something’s bothering you. In this family, we pull back, take some quiet time. Let’s figure out how we can do that for you.”

A colleague of mine, Margaret, used to tell me about her fifteen-year-old daughter, who was busy at school and a competitive swimmer. Margaret said her daughter wouldn’t slow down and resisted opening up even when a dark cloud seemed to be following her. When I suggested a pullback, Margaret rolled her eyes, but not too long after, she instituted a quiet weekend, missed training and all. The first weekend was enforced—“You mean
I’m grounded?!”
—but Margaret has since reported that her daughter now collaborates with her on making some downtime when she feels overwhelmed.

Margaret has also noticed that once that decision has been made, once they’ve cleared the calendar for a couple of days, her daughter is more apt to open up about what’s bothering her, what brought her to this point. I think when your feelings are complicated (this could be a new definition of adolescence), it helps to know that if you
do
choose to open up, you’ll have the time to talk it out. You won’t have to try to explain the whole confusing mess on the way to swim practice or between dinner and your brother’s bedtime.

That first time, Margaret’s daughter felt she was being “grounded.” It turns out she was absolutely right. I love this very American expression, “being grounded,” because in this context, it fits. When an adolescent is overwhelmed, in a soul fever, the electrical current around them is so strong that they actually do need “grounding.” They need to be brought back to earth, brought back to their more relaxed, resilient selves.

Bringing Them Close

Physical Fever:
Normal routines are off, pajamas are on, and the sick child needs care. At this point, we bring them close … physically, and in terms of our attention. We watch them closely. There are complications to illness and fever, repercussions we want to avoid. We might cozy up with them, or make them comfortable in bed. In our house we have a box of special books and little toys that we get out when one of the girls isn’t feeling well. Curtains might be drawn, a special “nest” of pillows made. Everything quiets down.

At this point we might also ask ourselves how or why this happened. Is there something going around at school? Is there anything we need to find out about, or seek help with? Do they need a doctor? Do we need a neighbor or friend to get a few things at the store?

Soul Fever:
An emotionally feverish child is in need of care, too. Pajama time may be optional, but downtime is not. Your child will probably not be holed up in bed, but they can still have a period of ease, time that will feel different from everyday life. Simple pleasures they rarely have time for—getting out the paints, family stories, a building project—can occupy their attention while loosening their emotional knot. One-on-one time with a parent can be a welcome change.

Physically and emotionally, they need to be brought close. Sometimes a child who is “off their game” does not need pampering so much as a quiet assurance of our presence and availability. When we change the routine and quiet things down, we are placing an unspoken emphasis on relationship, connection.

Where do they feel safest, most at peace? For many kids the answer is home, but not for all. A friend of mine takes her eight-year-old son, Jason, fishing. “We do that in good times, so I figure getting out on the lake might help when he’s having a hard time, too.” Nature is a warm sensory bath that can counterbalance the cold overwhelm of too much activity, information, or “stuff.” Time in nature calms and focuses; for most children, it takes only a few minutes for them to begin to explore. Watch as they seek out places that feel particularly right to them, as they gather symbolic objects—leaves, sticks, bits of moss—that they discover. You can’t manipulate nature, it must be delved into; it’s a vibrant but neutral canvas onto which a child can pour their creativity.

Studies have shown that patients who have even just a view of trees
in a hospital setting recover more quickly than those who do not. It’s no wonder; nature is profoundly healing, physically and emotionally. Neurologically time in nature can bring a child out of the amygdala-based fight-or-flight response and into the higher functions of thought that are based in the limbic system (creative) and the frontal lobes (cognition).

There are complications to soul fevers as well as physical fevers, ramifications that we want to avoid. Little kids, under seven, will work themselves right into a storm of some sort unless or until their unease is acknowledged. Too young to regulate their emotions, they will act out until everyone, including the cat or dog, has felt the effects. As children get older they learn how to repress painful feelings … but not entirely, or for long. Especially in adolescence, unprocessed feelings can surface in all manner of seemingly unrelated ways: an extreme haircut, severed friendships, behavior issues at school.

By simplifying you offer your child support, and a container for the issues and changes they are working through. You also offer them a model, one that may be a lifesaver as they get older. This is the lesson they will take with them: A small period of downtime is a form of care, a way of being cared for. It’s true, you may be the one doing the caring now, and insisting on limitations that they may resist, but you are also beginning a pattern that they can continue for themselves and will serve them throughout their lives.

So why is your child overwhelmed? You may be asking yourself that question, just as you would if they came home with a fever. What brought them to this point? Have they been doing too much? Has there been too much to’ing and fro’ing, especially for kids whose parents no longer live together? Is there a need for more consistency or balance in their schedules, their daily lives? Is school particularly stressful? With the current mania for testing in American schools (or, “No Child Left Intact” as I call it), is your child feeling the effects?

Is it time to reach out to others for guidance or help? In more serious cases of emotional issues, of course, professional help should be considered. What we are addressing here are common cases of overwhelm and upset, for which a day or two of downtime can be helpful. Still, you might want to consider if your child would benefit from a little time with someone whose influence is steadying and reaffirming. As children reach adolescence, they will naturally develop relationships outside the family with people who are in a position to be helpful. If your daughter loves and respects her dance teacher, a heads-up call
might be worth making: “Ellen seems to be going through a bit of a rough patch” … would the teacher mind staying close, keeping an eye out?