How Connection Breaks Down Between Mother Bear and Little Bear
a post-birthday bowl of "birthday soup"
While
I was working today my just-turned-two-year-old
brought me this bowl of bean and vegetable birthday
soup. I want to share it with you because the colors
are just so yummy as are the little hands that
delivered it. Following the lead of of Little Bear in
the story "Birthday Soup" from the book
Little Bear,
which
she received for her birthday, Ariella presented
me with her creation with such joy. We have read
“Birthday Soup” over and over and OVER and OVER
again in the last few days. If you have a young
child, I bet you understand my emphasis here quite
well.
"Birthday Soup" captivates my daughter and has
definitely shaped her play. The influential nature of
media has had me thinking for quite a while as well
as culling children’s books around here. If nothing
else, by the simple act of repetition, children are
internalizing the language, story lines and pictures.
And I believe there is much more to it than the
repetition.
As we discuss in the Connection Parenting
Workshops,
children learn most everything by what they see,
hear and experience. The American writer
James Baldwin
sums
it up well: "Children have never been very good at
listening to their elders, but they never fail to
imitate them." In the beginning, parents are
children’s most prominent models. As children grow
older, though, most of us want to continue to
influence their lives. But how many of us parent
with the awareness that the level of guidance
children accept from us depends on their
attachment to us or, in other words, the amount of
connection they feel with us?
So
back to Little Bear as Ariella’s model du jour and
his cooking birthday soup for his friends. In spite
of reading it over and over, I do see why she loves
this story so much. It is an adorable tale as is the
first on in the book, “What Will Little Bear Wear?”
As a Family Communications Educator and Life Coach
who often focuses on guiding parents into greater
connection with children, I have often seen the
benefit of increasing awareness about communication
styles and parenting practices that do the opposite
of our intention, leading to disconnection with those
precious beings we love so much. So let’s do that
with Little Bear and his mother.
Like many of us, Mother Bear starts out as a loving
and supportive parent. It’s about half way through
the book that her ability to connect starts to break
down. Maybe she's tired and needs more support, more
information and more effective communication skills.
She definitely hasn't had any help in these stories.
According to Pam Leo, "Parenting was never meant to
be a one or two person job."
It’s in the book’s third story, “Little Bear Goes to
the Moon,” that her negative, limited and
disrespectful side starts to show. Mother Bear begins
telling Little Bear all of the things that he can’t
do. This culminates with her stating flatly why she
believes he can’t fly, which he has gone to the
extent of building a space helmet to do. “And maybe
you are a fat little bear cub with no wings and no
feathers,” she says.
Huh? Mamma Bear, where'd that come
from?
I wouldn’t want someone I love (or anyone for that
fact) to talk to me in that way. And what if they
did? Well, I certainly wouldn’t feel respected or
honored in our interaction. Nor would I feel
particularly inclined to cooperate with this person.
I would feel hurt and suspect. I would wonder if this
person is safe and worthy of trust with the big stuff
that this business of living tends to throw at me.
Hmmmm….Doubt it.
In
the last story, “Little Bear’s Wish” the scenario is
similar. Mother Bear again tells Little Bear that he
can’t have the wishes that he is daydreaming about
before going to sleep at night. What is it about this
“voice of reason” that compels people to negate and
direct other’s wishes and dreams? Would it not be
more loving for Little Bear to experience his mother
as someone who believes in him and hears all his
wishes without negating them, whether they are
reasonable or not? How different would it be growing
up close to someone who would talk to him about what
he is really thinking about, who for a moment will
allow herself to see through his eyes? Is Little Bear
learning an early lesson about Mother Bear's ability
to listen to him and be on his side?
Children need to experience a parent as an ally. Even
if it means adults setting aside that "voice of
reason" for a bit and really listening to children’s
hopes, dreams and fears, reasonable or not. Children
need parents who can empathize and support them. This
is one of the touchstones of safety and trust. A
child who can trust and feel safe with a parent is
much more likely to bring those ever more complicated
growing-up issues to them for discussion.
And what about Mother Bear? Could her parents have
treated her the same way? Probably. Could the
relationship between Little Bear and Mother Bear
suffer? Probably. Will Little Bear eventually tire of
Mother Bear’s negativity, degrading comments and
manipulations? I imagine so. And then what will he
do? Look for others to connect with and attach to,
usually peers who don’t qualify as the type of
guiding figures most parents want for their children?
Will Little Bear choose relationships that have the
same qualities as the one he’s running from?
It is not my intention to give Mother Bear a hard
time. In fact, I've had my own Mother Bear alter-ego
at times. Feeling depleted and not having enough
support is a one-way road into the bear's den. Mother
Bear probably wasn't getting her needs met either.
And I doubt she had any awareness of how her actions
may impact her child, nor even an awareness that
there is another way to parent. The parent must
receive what she is to give her child, in some way,
from somewhere, from someone. It is my hope that
Mother Bear finds that someone.
SIDEBAR: This book is part of the "I Can Read"
series, yet in no way am I advocating using these
books to teach very young children to
read.
The ever increasing pressure on children to
advance is developmentally risky business. We use
them as any other book for a two year old, to
enjoy the story and images.
Connecting with Children in the Everyday
yesterday: sunset: isham park: snowman.
So what does this maintaining connection stuff look like anyway? In the everyday, when things are going well and we don't even know were are at risk for flubbing it? I'm not talking about the obvious parenting challenges here. The ones we address in the NYC Connection Parenting Workshop Series or in the myriad reasons that parents may call a life coach. I'm talking about during average everyday experiences when we are on autopilot (ok, so we are usually on autopilot when we flub it under stress, too) and we aren't aware of how a child may interpret our actions.
Here's a snippet:
"Ohhhh!" My 2-year-old daughter calls out. "Snowman!" She stops abruptly and points at the white rectangle painted on the stone steps that wind down from Isham Park.
Well, who am I to tell her it isn't?
I hold on to the urge to "correct" her, to inform her about the world, to make sure she knows all the reasons why this can't and will never be a snowman, to teach her what this "really" is. To say "No."
I hold on tightly to that impulse that overtakes us adults. That compulsion to pull children from their world into our logical one, even when it may not be in their best interest to do so. This "No" is the one that makes her "wrong" and risks whittling away a small part of her child-like, creative, joyful being with the chisel of reality.
Instead, for that second, I give over to her and her snowman. I live with her in her moment in time, her world. I began to "see" through her eyes. Now I am her ally, the leader who understands her. I relax into connection.
"A snowman!" I say as I bend down. "What's he doing?"
"Sleeping."
"Can you show me?"
She points into the rectangle's whiteness.
"Do you want me to take a picture of him?"
"Yes." She seems content. My heart feels full.
We move on.