chrisirvine

Good Girl

mvchristine2021@gmail.com (Christine Irvine) — Sun, 25 Jun 2023 21:08:12 GMT

Raising a "good kid" doesn't mean what you think it means

What a good girl, everyone said.

And they were right. She WAS good. This little girl was good at doing what she was told. She was good at following the rules. She was good student, a good friend, a good daughter.

She quietly did was asked of her. Even if it hurt.

As an adult she still carried much of that with her.

She also carries memories like this one:

As a young child, she lived in a neighborhood full of other small children. They met in the street in the afternoon to play tag or kick-the-can or dodgeball. She most often played with two other girls her own age who lived within a few houses, often at her own house, but occasionally venturing to their houses to play with dolls or do crafts or whatever two young girls could come up with to do. She was shy with adults but made friends easily. And parents loved having her over because she was so good.

The little girl was quiet. She was obedient. She was everybody’s favorite kid.

One afternoon Sarah's mother invited this little girl to play. The little girl was quiet. She was compliant, as usual. She never asked for for anything, just played cooperatively with Sarah. As expected.

Also on that particular day, she had a loose tooth. By the time the little girl's mother showed up to pick her up from Sarah's house, that tooth wasn’t loose anymore. In fact, it was no longer in her mouth.

Sarah's visiting grandmother, a complete stranger to this little girl, insisted on pulling it. The tooth wasn’t ready. Neither was this little girl.

But she was a good girl, so she complied. An adult insisted, and she only knew how to obey.

So this stranger reached into the girl’s mouth and yanked the loose-but-not-quite-ready tooth.

She doesn’t remember much about being five, but fifty years later that traumatic memory lingers. In a moment she needed to access her own power, she didn’t even know she had any. So she quieted the inner voice that was screaming "No!" and said, instead, "Okay."

Yes, it was just a tooth. It was also a violation. Perhaps, you might say, an assault. And she had opened her mouth to allow it to happen.

Moms and dads, ask yourself: Are you willing to raise a kid like this?

If your parenting demands compliance, you are not only raising a kid like this, you are actually raising an ADULT like this! You are raising an adult for whom compliance is paramount. An adult who is ruled by fear instead of by her own feeling of empowerment. A girl who doesn’t know how to say No. Stop. Not today.

That was me. For a very long time, that was me. Literally. I let that woman pull my tooth because saying no was scarier than allowing her to do it. Even though it hurt. Even though I was terrified. Even thought I most certainly did not want her to do it.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that I learned how to listen to and obey my own voice. To say, No. Stop. Not today. I could do it for other people because that was "being good," but I didn’t know how to do it for myself.

I LOVE that voice. It’s still under construction, but it’s getting easier to access every day. I just wish I had discovered it sooner.

If you want to give your child that voice, a strong sense of self, the empowerment to stand up even in the face of authority, to have the courage to obey her inner voice over any other, you can change course right now.

You can raise a moral, ethical, kind, loving person who also knows she matters. Who knows her voice is important and worth listening to. Who knows that SHE is worth protecting, even if means standing up to an adult, a bully, an abusive partner, even a teacher or a boss.

Who knows that being a “good girl” isn’t what we all think it is.

At all.

Why Your "Easy" Kid Needs You More Than You Think

mvchristine2021@gmail.com (Christine Irvine) — Tue, 29 Nov 2022 05:31:48 GMT

There's no such thing as a kid who has it all together

One of my kids was really challenging. The other one was pretty easy.

Have you ever thought that? You have one child who is sailing through life. Another child is struggling, or at the very least making YOU struggle.

Or perhaps your kids shifted back and forth, taking on one or the other role at any given time.

That’s pretty normal.

So what do we tend to do?

We work pretty hard to parent our challenging kid. They probably need a lot of attention—academically, socially, and emotionally. Perhaps they're distant, angry, anxious, underperforming in school, or engaging in risky behavior. Maybe they have a neuro-divergence that makes parenting even more confusing and challenging.

And then, of course, the easy kid is managing their life pretty well. So we can turn our energy to the kid who needs us the most.

That makes sense. We recognize each kid has different needs, and so we shift and pivot and give our kids what will serve them best.

I did all of that.

I had an easy kid and a hard kid.

My autistic daughter was challenging. No arguing that point. She was so hard to figure out. She required SO MUCH work from me as a mother, work to help her develop her delayed motor skills, work to get her to school each and every morning, full attention to help her complete her homework, mental and emotional acrobatics to figure out how to be her parent. It was exhausting and draining and perplexing. I had very little juice left for anybody else.

Her younger brother was easy. He advanced through all the developmental milestones like a champ. Where my daughter had been delayed, he soared.

He loved kindergarten so much that he wanted to go on the weekends. He was athletic. He was social. He sped through his school work with ease.

I spent a lot of time with my son. I really did. We had hour-long bedtime routines that involved books and MadLibs and sometimes giggles—complete with tears—we couldn’t shake. When he took up Little League in fourth grade, I took him to the park every single day for months to practice throwing a baseball. And then a football. Eventually he invited his friends, and I'd toss up the ball to hit so they could practice fielding. Or I'd toss a pitch toward "home plate" so the boys could take turns batting. All this with little to no practice or skills on my part. Just a desire to hang out with my son and give him the childhood I believed he deseerved.

And then I gave him all the love I could give a kid.

He was my easy kid. I wasn’t worried about him at all.

What I hadn’t taken into consideration for so many years was that having one “difficult” child makes things hard for everyone. Even the “easy” child.

Often the “easy” child SEEMS easy because they have decided or accepted that:

- Their needs don't matter

- Their needs can't possibly be met in their family

- It's their JOB to be the easy one, so they stuff everything down or make themselves small

- And/or they're gonna have to become "difficult" to make their needs known

And then:

- They find a (possibly) unhealthy source that meets their needs in some way

- They learn to put everyone else’s needs ahead of theirs

- They lose the ability to determine what their needs actually are

- They may become angry at the world and at you

- They may shrink themselves to avoid needing anything from you

- They rebel in order to get the attention they so desperately need, to say “Hey, I’m over here needing something from you!”

- Without a doubt, the connection between child and parents will falter

Does this sound familiar to you?

If you, like me, realize you’ve been thinking of your kids that way, chances are you really DO have an extra challenging kid. That’s super real!

And chances are your easy kid is feeling it, too. So what can we do to make sure our kids are actually getting what they need?

- Get CURIOUS

Yes! Get curious! You don't make assumptions and judgments. Rather, you wonder. And you consider. And you imagine. And you talk. And explore.

There's so much more, but curiosity is where it all starts. You get curious about what's going on with your kids--both the easy ones and the hard ones.

You can start your transformation right now—to less stressful parenting with your difficult child, to more empathy for all of your kids--and yourself!--and to a less guilt-ridden, less confusing, more satisfying parenting journey with ALL of your children, no matter what they need.

Even if your kids are grown, it's not too late to make a change.

Three Steps to Creating Deep Connections with Your Teen

mvchristine2021@gmail.com (Christine Irvine) — Sun, 06 Nov 2022 23:13:56 GMT

How to Raise Kids Who Can Launch Successfully Without Losing Your Mind

When my daughter was three years old, I took her to preschool for the very first time. We had spent nearly 24/7 together for the first three years of her life, and now suddenly she had her own secret life for about two and a half hours a day, five days a week. She wasn’t talking much yet (she was in a special preschool for speech delays), but even if she had been, it’s unlikely I would have gotten much information.

Even more disconcerting was when, during that first year of preschool, she elected to take the bus. A little tiny bus equipped with car seats would pull up to my driveway. I would help my daughter up the big steps, with her little pink backpack, to the car seat that awaited her. I’d buckle her in, step off the bus, and wave goodbye.

TO MY THREE YEAR-OLD WHO WAS NOW ON A BUS.

And then I would wait anxiously for the next few hours until Alice, the grandma-bus-driver with the “curly” face (as my daughter called her wrinkles) would once again reappear in my driveway.

What on earth was going on for my child when I wasn’t around? What stories could she have told me if she was much of a talker? Was she happy? Was she scared? Excited? Bored?

Little did I know that I was getting the first taste of what would inevitably pop up in the teen years: My kids would have so many experiences, so many thoughts and emotions, that I wouldn’t be privy to.

I hear and read so much about the pain parents experience as their children separate from them in the teen years. It can feel like a personal rejection. We all know by now that separation is inevitable and actually desirable. After all, we want our kids to launch and be self-sufficient and capable of managing, eventually, all aspects of their inner and outer lives.

What if I told you, though, that creating and maintaining a deep and strong connection with your kids is actually what enables them to launch successfully? To weather the storms that life promises to bring? To ride life’s roller coaster of love, despair, victory, and defeat?

Perhaps you’re thinking, well duh. Also: How am I supposed to do that when I have teen who shuts me out? Who ignores me or insults me or wants nothing to do with me?

Or you might be thinking: My kid follows the rules. She’s taking three AP classes, plays lacrosse, and volunteers at a food bank. So clearly she’s acing life! We’re good!

Whichever one sounds most like your teen (or perhaps you’re somewhere in between), the most important parenting strategy you can learn is how to communicate in a way that builds deep connections with your child.

Sadly, according to the data, kids in Marin are not doing okay. According to a 2021 report by Marin County Health & Human Services, our beautiful county has the one of the highest suicide rates in the Bay Area. Teens make up 10% of the Marin population but account for 44% of suicide-related ER visits and 36% of suicide-related hospitalizations. White males are the most at risk. But they are not alone. In 2013, when my daughter was in eighth grade, I personally was aware of four girls her age who had attempted suicide. Fortunately, none of them was successful.

No matter where your teen is falling on the spectrum of teen well-being–whether they’re fully participating in life or shrinking away from it, whether they’re having great academic success or having monumental struggles–it’s not too early–or too late–to begin the work of making those deep connections.

As you know there is no one-size-fits-all manual. Each family is unique. But there are communication skills every parent can learn that foster the kind of mutual trust and respect that give our kids emotional safety and resilience.

Here are three things you can begin doing right now :

Look beyond and behind behavior to reframe it as information about your teen.

When my son was 16 and begin to struggle, I freaked the hell out. I didn't understand many of his choices. And I was scared. What I wanted so desperately was for him to change his behavior. I wanted him to change because then, it seemed, he would be OK. And then I would be OK.

I even sought the advice of both an adolescent psychiatrist and an adolescent psychologist. Their advice was equally focused on the behavior. It was so much about the what . Let’s all figure out how to get him to stop doing what he was doing!

And so that’s what I did. With a template provided by his psychologist, I created a behavior plan, which included specific behaviors and the rewards and punishments that would result. It was pages long. This document and what it represented reflected a parenting paradigm most of us probably learned: Create rules and stick to them. Make it very clear what the expectations are. And then make sure consequences ensue.

This approach sent my son into a tailspin, and for the first time, he eventually told me, he had a fleeting thought of driving into a pole.

Instead of fostering the connection he so desperately needed from me, this hardline old-style parenting model pushed him further into his pain and farther from his mom.

The problem was this plan, this very expensive and professional advice, did nothing to get at the why . I did want to know why, but I was so afraid of his behavior that the why took a backseat to the what .

So what did I learn during this very difficult time? This difficult time when my son was adrift and our relationship was suffering?

The single most important thing at that time was understanding what was going on inside my kid. The behaviors were symptoms of something much deeper. They were clues for me to explore so I can could actually help my child, rather than putting a bandaid on the problem so that I could feel better.

When I made the shift into the peaceful parenting paradigm I now teach, which prioritizes the parent-child relationship over behavior, things began to shift. My fear didn’t go away exactly, but it softened into compassion, empathy and curiosity. I began to perceive his behavior as manifestations of anxiety and depression, which allowed me much more effectively support my child.

Do more listening than talking.

I don’t know about you, but I love to give advice. Stories of my childhood and all of the things I learned in my life could help my teen so much. After all, I’m so much older and wiser! If only my kid would listen to me, they would see things more clearly and make better decisions. Right?

No, actually not at all. In fact, whatever I have to say to my kid most of the time is so much less important than what my kid has to say to me.

You might be thinking: Then what is parenting for? Aren’t we supposed to give them boundaries to keep them safe? Aren’t we supposed to pass down all the wisdom we learned so we can save our kids from the same mistakes we made?

Yes to boundaries when they are guided by family values (great topic for another blog post!). Absolutely.

But what if I said that our role as parents to older kids is to ask them questions? Be curious. Get to know our kids. Ask them what they think. Or what they want. Or what’s going on with them when they’re acting in a way we don’t necessarily like or understand. But also, just as importantly, when they seem as if they have it all together.

That’s how you can get to first thing: reframing behaviors as information.

Back to the story of my son. Instead of shoving a behavior contract in his face, I wish I’d said to him: “I notice that last week you missed school three times. I understand you’re really struggling with something. Being a teenager is so hard. I don’t know what’s going on for you, and I want you know I’m always here for you when you want to talk.”

I’m not suggesting that parents don’t address worrisome behavior, but rather that we address it in the context of the why . It’s only when you get at the why that you can problem-solve the what .

It’s entirely possible my son wouldn’t have been able to identify or articulate what he was struggling with, but just letting him know I saw him as a person who needed help, rather than a person who needed correcting, would have helped build the kind of trust that allows a kid to reach out for that help when they need it.

For example, let’s say often when your daughter gets in the car at pick up time, she’s grouchy. She sits down, slams the door, and looks straight ahead. You say hello. She says nothing and glares out the window.

Maybe she criticizes your driving, or she’s angry because you were late. In any case, this just isn't an acceptable way for her to greet you because, after all, you left a meeting early to pick her up, and she’s being pretty rude and ungrateful.

If you’re a normal human person, you feel some tightness in your chest. You feel the blood rush to your head. You’re angry. You do so much for that kid of yours, and this is the thanks you get!

Your first instinct might be to say, “Don’t talk to me like that.” Or “Whoa, you’re in a bad mood.” And then maybe you distance yourself. Or maybe you don’t say anything at all. You’re tired, you’re beaten down, you’re just not having it.

After all, perhaps you had a rough day. Perhaps you spent all day doing something on behalf of your child, and now they’re treating you with disrespect or even disdain!

While all of that may be true, what you are missing in that moment is empathy for your kid, for the secret life she lives at school, for whatever teen experiences she’s having that are stressful, confusing, upsetting, perhaps even depressing, scary, and traumatic.

Here’s your big chance to put your new “talk less, listen more” approach into place. Like this: “Hey, Kiddo. I love you so much. I don’t know what’s going on for you right now, but I’m always here if you want to talk.”

You bring a softness and openness, rather than meeting your child with anger and frustration.

Imagine the very different outcome! Your child may or may not open up in that moment, but what you’re doing is playing the long game. You’re showing your child you can give them what they need in their most difficult moments, and, when you’re at your very best, in your difficult moments as well.

How can you do this? How can you show up for your child when he’s being rude, insulting, dismissive?

Regulate our own emotions.

That’s the first order of business!

Regulating our own emotions is what enables us to do the first two things I mentioned - reframing our kids’ behaviors and doing an awful lot of listening. If we practice regulating ourselves when big emotions are bubbling up inside of us, we are so much better able to show up as the moms and dads we want to be.

When my son was going through that very hard time, he was alone for a weekend at his dad’s house. I was very unhappy about that. I was very unhappy about a lot of things, including the fact that my struggling son no longer lived with me and seemed to have no parenting at all.

So when I discovered he was having a party, I completely lost it. I’m not much of a yeller, and I’m not sure I actually yelled, but I was so angry. Furious. I threatened to call the police to make the kids leave. I forced myself into his apartment to search for drugs and alcohol, all the while absolutely seething. I’m not sure I can think of a time in my life when I was angrier.

Months later, when I was going through my coaching program, I had an epiphany. Sure, I would have–and quite frankly, should have–have been upset about the party.

But I had realized something important: The overwhelming emotions pouring out of me were actually my sadness about his no longer living with me when I thought he really needed me most, and my fear about where this was all leading. My reaction was about so much more than the party. But I was so caught up in my emotions that I couldn’t see clearly.

Here’s what I wish I’d had the capacity to do:

Calm down my body and mind.

Respond instead of react so I could more effectively communicate and handle the situation.

Instead, I was so out of my mind, I’m sure my son couldn’t possibly receive anything I had to say in that moment.

So if you notice you have strong reactions to things like undone homework, broken curfews, rudeness and even avoidance, I have good news for you: Regulating yourself is the single best thing you can do. It’s the first step toward creating a relationship with your teen that will carry you through those challenging years–and that will last a lifetime. It will allow you to better communicate in a way that your child can receive, understand, and respond. And you’re modeling something pretty magnificent for your child’s growing brain.

It’s also something you can learn to do . It won’t be simple. There is a lot to unpack about our own emotions as we embark on this journey to become the kind of parents we want to be.

But I promise you, it’s possible.

All of these things are possible. If I can learn to regulate my emotions, practice more listening than talking, and reframe how I look at my kid’s behavior, so can you.

You can absolutely begin to build, at this very moment, a stronger, deeper connection with your child. No matter where you are in your parenting journey, it’s not too early or too late to start becoming the parent you want to be.

A Lesson in Repair

mvchristine2021@gmail.com (Christine Irvine) — Fri, 21 Oct 2022 00:56:42 GMT

When you mess up, how you can make things right with your kids. And yourself

Most of my adult life I’ve had somebody around who likes to fix things. And is good at it. I did all of the child rearing (like, seriously ALL OF IT) and the homemaker stuff and all of the emotional work of having a family, but for decades I had a husband to get up on the roof to clean out the gutters or troubleshoot the internet or whatever.

Times have changed, though. Now it’s just the two of us ladies here (my daughter and me), and we’re determined to be the badass women we know we can be (except roof stuff–I’m still not doing that!).

So recently, in the spirit of turning over this new leaf and fixing stuff myself, I decided to try to troubleshoot an error code on my dishwasher. Save money? Check! Be independent? Check!

Ummmm…oops.

I followed the instructions on that handy YouTube video that showed me how to drain water from somewhere in my dishwasher where it wasn’t supposed to be. I pulled out the appliance from under the countertop and tipped it about 45 degrees. So easy, right?

LOL

Long story short: Sure, I didn’t have to pay a plumber $140 to perform that very simple task.

But after a little puff of smoke and the smell of an electrical fire, I found myself having to shell out a whole lot more money for a brand new dishwasher. It was 100% my fault. I made mistakes. I tried, but I screwed up.

Annoying. And costly. But oh, well. Nobody was injured and lesson was learned: Appliance repair is best left to the professionals!

But I’m not here to talk about appliances. Because basically that little anecdote is the end of my “expertise.”

What I want to talk about is relationship repair. Specifically with our kiddos.

Luckily, you don’t have to be formally trained to repair relationships. But it helps to know what you’re doing. And why.

It’s not complicated, exactly. But it can be hard .

Because it takes some serious humility to get to that place. It also takes–and this is maybe even trickier–self-forgiveness.

Repair is also HUGELY important.

Unless you, like me, never ever make a mistake.

(wink, wink)

Recently I had kind of an argument with my daughter.

I was too tired to deal.

With anything.

I had hosted an hours-long dinner party and was exhausted. And as you know, exhaustion means low reserves. Which means low patience. Which often leads to mistakes.

So when she told me she wanted to keep her new outdoor twinkle lights on all night, even though she'd be SLEEPING, I just flatly said no. My energy bills are already horrific. So my response, both inside and out, was pretty clear.

Plus it seemed ridiculous to me. Because at night, presumably, SHE WOULD BE ASLEEP.

So to me, it made absolutely no sense to keep the lights on. And I wasn't going to allow it.

She insisted on keeping the lights on.

I insisted she turn them off.

And so there was a standoff. I was too tired to push it farther in the moment, but we were both left unhappy with our interaction.

I could feel the tension in the air, so I asked her if she was upset, and she stuck out her hand to make a “kinda” motion as she slipped into her room and shut the door.

I turned and went to bed.

It wasn’t the hug-goodnight day-ender we usually have.

The next morning as I thought about the night before, I realized my mistake. I could have at the very least had a conversation with her. I could have empathized with her. Like, “Yeah those new lights are SO COOL. I can see why you want want to have them on all night right now.” Additionally, I could have offered to research the actual cost of running LED twinkle lights. Which, it turns out, is practically nothing.

So you know what I did?

First, I forgave myself. I hadn’t been in the best state of mind. I recognized that. I love my kid. I really do try my hardest. I just made a mistake. I’m still awesome!

Second, I apologized. Without excuses.

I said I was sorry for not listening to her, and for making a decision without doing some research.

I also changed my mind. Does it make sense to me to have lights on all night just outside your window? Not really. But my opinion didn’t really matter. At all.

So I could both apologize AND change course without feeling much more than a little initial regret.

Okay, you’re probably thinking Big Deal.

Small transgression, easy apology. Easy repair. Nothing broken. Just, at most, a teeny- tiny chip.

So what if IT IS a big deal? What if you’ve made a serious transgression? Maybe just now, maybe yesterday, maybe five years ago.

What if you really lost your temper yesterday?

W hat if you punished your kid last week in a way you now believe was too harsh?

What if you realize you didn’t truly understand and meet your kid’s needs because your other kid took up all your energy? And your kids are grown now?

Can you repair that? Should you?

Yes, it’s possible.

And yes, definitely you should.

Okay, steps again:

Forgive yourself. You were absolutely doing the best you could at the time. You are human. You love your child. Without self-compassion and self-forgiveness, true compassion and repair cannot happen.

And then apologize.

And here’s the BIG KEY.

You just say what you want to say, without blaming the other person in any way, and have absolutely no attachment to their response.

None.

You don’t even ask for forgiveness.

You most certainly don’t ask for them to apologize, too.

You say, “You know, I realize that when you were young I was paying so much attention to your sister, that I didn’t notice what you were missing. I don’t think I was really meeting your needs. That must have been so difficult for you. I imagine you were sad and maybe even scared some of the time.

“And I am so sorry for that.”

I know because this is the very thing I called my son to tell him when I was going through my coaching training. My failure hit me like a ton of bricks. And I knew it was important for me to say something, to acknowledge my failure to both myself and my son. I know the repair was healing for me. I can only hope and believe it was healing for him.

Sometimes repair happens in that single moment. Your kid–or your partner or your friend–hugs you and says, “I love you!” and everything feels right again.

Sometimes it happens little by little. Sometimes the trust gets rebuilt one brick at a time.

But it’s worth it.

For your kid.

For your family.

For you.

How to Raise Happy Kids

mvchristine2021@gmail.com (Christine Irvine) — Wed, 19 Oct 2022 17:10:31 GMT

It's Probably Not What You Think!

What do you want most for your kids?

Raise your hand if you thought, “I just want them to be happy.”

I bet every single person reading this is nodding their head right now. Yes, of course that’s what we all want, right?

Y’all ready for something pretty radical?

Sit down and take a breath because here it comes.

I’m throwing out a big fat NOPE right now:

We shouldn’t want our kids to be happy.

Yup I said that! I really did!

OK, you can exhale now.

Imagine if happiness was really the ultimate goal. As long as we’re happy, everything is perfect. As long as our kids can find that one thing that makes them happy, we can pat ourselves on the back and let out a big sigh of relief. WE DID IT! Because that’s the goal, right?

Right?

Actually, does that really make sense?

Here are some times of the many when I wasn’t happy at all:

When my daughter wasn’t talking at age 2.

When that enormous pile of laundry grew twofold overnight because I had two bedwetters.

When my friend died suddenly at 43.

When I realized I needed to get out of my marriage.

When my son was bullied at school.

I was sad, resolved, angry, scared, angry again, confused, and a bit depressed. I’ve also been horrified, worried, devastated, annoyed, irritated, amused, hopeful, hopeless, satisfied, disappointed and ecstatic. And appropriately so.

So I’d like to make a proposal.

Forget happiness. Forget trying to be happy yourself. Forget trying to make your kids happy.

Instead, learn to find peace in ALL the emotions. Show our kids that it’s normal and acceptable and even NECESSARY to be sad or angry or frustrated.

And then show them healthy ways to express those emotions!

Yup, even anger. Maybe especially anger. Because I don’t know about you, but my relationship with anger is no bueno. I like to pretend I don’t feel it. And I want to crawl into a hole when somebody else expresses it. (Work in progress over here!)

Is your kid mad because some kid ripped up their math homework? Um, hell yeah, they’re mad!

So what do they do with that? What do they do with the rage in their body—and YES It’s in our BODIES!

Maybe they can put their head in a pillow and scream. Or punch their bed. Or just say how mad they are. Like, they are really freaking pissed off.

Can your kid say that out loud? Or some version of that?

What if your kid is devastated because they lost their favorite Pokemon card? Do you try to talk them out of it? Does that seem like a dumb thing to cry about? After all, it’s just one Pokemon card!

Or do you look your kid in the eye and say, “Yeah, I can really see how sad you are. That’s a huge frickin’ bummer.” And then hold them close.

What if your teen sees a bunch of Instagram posts from a party they weren't invited to? How real is that? Your kid might be devastated. Your kid is crying out of sadness, anger and disappointment. Do you try to give them context so they don't feel so bad? Like, "Well I guess those aren't really your friends." Or are you able to just sit with them in their pain?

I had a moment recently with my daughter that put my skills in this area to the test. I was just about to leave to meet a friend for lunch when Maddie appeared in the kitchen. Immediately I saw a sadness I rarely see in her.

“Are you OK?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Do you need me right now?” I asked. She nodded.

So I bailed out of my lunch date (which I was REALLY looking forward to) and sat down with her on the kitchen floor. She had already scooped up our dog Banjo for some comfort. He’s good for that.

I took a deep breath. I didn’t know how long this would last, so I was glad I had just canceled my plans so I didn’t feel rushed or under pressure.

Then I got to work. And you know what that looked like? I was calm. I was spacious. I listened to what she had to say, and I just let her know I saw her. I let her know her emotions made a lot of sense. She talked and I listened. And we hugged.

We’re all going to have emotions. Some feel amazing. Others not so much. Some make us feel like we can’t possibly live with them.

And that’s where the peace comes in. The peace in knowing ALL EMOTIONS ARE OK. And not only are they OK, they are important . And that’s because emotions are trying to tell us something.

That’s how we prepare our kids to have a good life: we show them how to recognize their emotions and how to express them in a healthy way.

So this is what I want for MY kids: Peace. An inner peace that helps them navigate the inevitability of pain, the surprise and delight of joy, and the message that feelings of anger are trying to give us that we need to DO something. And all the complex emotions in between.

A peace in knowing that no matter what happens in their lives, and whatever emotions those events stir in them, they know they will be OK.

Dirty Little Secret

mvchristine2021@gmail.com (Christine Irvine) — Wed, 12 Oct 2022 20:37:20 GMT

What I ACTUALLY Expected from My Kids Before I Knew Better

When two little pink lines formed in the window of that little plastic wand, my heart burst. I had worked hard–in the traditional sense–to make this happen. And after a relatively short but intense period of trying, there I was, expecting my very first child.

And then the countdown began. At 20 weeks an ultrasound could reveal the sex of my baby.

“Boy or girl–doesn’t matter!” I proclaimed. And it didn’t really. (Forgive the gender emphasis here–this was 22 years ago.) But deep down, I knew I was hoping for a girl. As the middle of three daughters, I thought I was prepared to understand and parent a daughter. She would, in some sense, be known to me from the start. We were both girls, so we would surely get each other.

Convinced that a boy was growing inside me, I was surprised and delighted to find out, in fact, my firstborn would be a girl. I could start buying flowery outfits for her to wear immediately! One day, I imagined, we would get pedicures together, sitting side by side having our toenails painted in pretty colors.

I bet you can see where this is going. Little Madeline came out, and for the first few years, when I was in charge of everything about her, Maddie was the girl I’d imagined. There are pictures of her draped in plastic bead necklaces, chunky bracelets, and cute hats. She liked Hello Kitty and tutus and pink. And then, for a while, literally EVERYTHING she wore had to be red.

That was new. At age four she’d discovered that she could make choices about these things, and so she most certainly did.

Shortly thereafter, my dreams of all the mother-daughter stuff I’d imagined began to fade away. She could not have been less interested. She hated shopping for clothes so much that I began to just bring things home for her to try on, and I would return the rejects. She was so opposed to the entire process that I ended up paying her a dollar for each item she tried on. A kid does need clothes, after all.

It seemed that as she got older, we had less and less in common. When she was still small we could have lightsaber fights, and I managed to learn how to play a few video games as a way to spend time together. I always kept things silly, which we both enjoyed, but mostly the things that intrigued and inspired us were entirely different. She liked anime and fantasy and role-playing. She liked crafting and gardening. I couldn’t wrap my brain around those. I liked reading, art, fashion, and design. I liked writing. She was terrified of it.

Sometimes I felt a bit sad when I heard my friends talking about their mother/daughter adventures, the kinds I’d fantasized about. It feels absurd and a bit superficial to say that now, but it was the truth: I’d expected Maddie to be like me. And she wasn’t. And I had to figure out how to process that. I would even say there was a little mourning.

Even more challenging for me was her dislike of school. She had all the intellectual capacity I ever had, but she just didn’t like school. She wasn’t motivated or interested. She didn’t want to read books. She would have much preferred not to have anything to do with school at all. I was just trying to get her to finish an assignment once in a while, whereas my own academic goals had tended toward the “highest grade in the class” kind of thing.

My son was equally intelligent. And equally disinterested. Eventually he was so opposed to the whole idea that he opted out of high school to pursue other things.

Where on Earth did these kids come from? I mean, I was quite certain of where they came from, but why weren’t they more like me?

I couldn’t comprehend anybody forgetting to do their homework. Or not particularly caring about school. Or not wanting to read. Or not liking clothes more (although, to be fair, my son did fill that little spot in my parenting life).

The question I should have asked myself, instead of “Why aren’t they like me?” should have been “Why on Earth should they be like me?”

I think most of us wonder about the WHY because we’re so perplexed by the WHAT. And that’s because secretly (often even secretly from ourselves) we expect our kids to be an awful lot like us. And when they’re not, we’re challenged to make some pretty radical shifts in our thoughts and beliefs.

We’re challenged to view our children as whole human beings, right from the start, whose hopes and dreams and talents and gifts will have absolutely NOTHING to do with ours. From the moment our babies take their first breath, they begin their unique life journey.

So what if, instead, we could look into their little faces and wonder, “Who are you right now? Who will you become?”

And, most importantly, “How can I best love, support, and guide you along the way?”

Kids--and plants--thrive when you give them the right environment

mvchristine2021@gmail.com (Christine Irvine) — Mon, 26 Sep 2022 20:17:53 GMT

Inspiration from a sad tomato plant

This year my kids turned 20 and 22.

The good news is they're doing fine.

The other news (good or bad, depending on how you look at it): I’m not done being a parent yet.

It’s hilarious if not a bit insane that I undertook the job of motherhood without a guide. Sure, there are books. There is advice up wazoo, whether you like it or not. But so many things come up, so many questions and emotions and So. Much. Stress. I wasn’t prepared for an awful lot of it. I so often felt I didn’t know what I was doing. Was this right? Oh, no, I blew that one. And that one. And that one. I was trying as hard as I could to be a great mom, but so often felt like I was coming up short.

This year, well into middle age, I decided I would try to grow tomatoes. For the past two years, I had managed to keep several indoor plants not only alive but kind of thriving, so I thought, heck maybe it’s time to grow some food.

So I bought a single tomato plant. Then I found out you have to use a special kind of soil for vegetables. News to me! Then I had to figure out, how often do I water it? And then how much water do I give it? What if it’s been sunny all week? Or foggy? Was that enough water? Oh no, maybe it was too much. Wait, is that a sunny enough spot? Oh, no, it seems I need to move it over there. Nope it was better back over there. Hmmm…now the leaves look funny. That’s a weird gray color. Other people are getting fruit. I’m getting nothing. Where are my freaking tomatoes?

How the heck am I supposed to learn how to grow tomatoes?!

You might be all green-thumby over there, thinking “That shit is easy. I grew 5,000 tomatoes this year.” But I bet you had some learning to do at some point. And maybe you got lucky. And maybe next year the tomato crop will suck. Or maybe you’ll plant a different kind of tomato plant and have a whole new series of questions. And you’ll think of me and my sad tomato plant.

You may also think of me and my sad tomato plant when you remember this: When we’re trying to grow a plant, we don’t expect the plant to nurture itself. We don’t expect the plant to solve its lack of water or overwatering problem. We don’t expect the plant to self-diagnose or move itself into the sun. We don’t even get mad at the plant! It’s doing the best it can do under the circumstances we have given it. So instead we wonder, and try to discover, how can I ensure my plant has everything it needs to live up to its potential? How can I best meet its needs?

Just like WE, as parents, get to do the work of parenting. We get to envision a vibrant, thriving kid and then do the work of creating the environment, in each of our unique families, that allows for that to happen. We get to examine ourselves and how our families function so we can make adjustments that best serve our children. Our families. And ourselves.

I know it because I did it. I was giving parenting everything I had, and I was failing in so many ways. I got to the end of what I could figure out on my own, and none of it was working. So I made some changes. I got a guide, a coach, and I learned how to create that nurturing environment I so desperately wanted to give my kids. Was it easy? Nope. But was it possible? Hell yes!

It was possible for me. And it's possible for you.

Unlike growing tomatoes, raising kids is a job unique to each family. To each parent. To each kid. There is no app that allows you to take a pic of your kid and find out what you’re doing right. Or wrong. All the books in the world, all of the advice on the internet or from your friends or family, will not teach you how to best parent your child.

That's because information is education. Coaching is what will lead you to transformation.

If you’re struggling to provide the environment in your family that allows your kids to THRIVE, all that information isn’t enough. What you need is a coach that can help the unique you best parent your unique kids in your unique family !

Back to the good news/bad news thing.

Yes, it’s good news we’re not done parenting. Because, in other good news, it’s not too late to learn. Wherever you are in your parenting journey, even if your kids are grown, it’s not too late to become the mom you want to be. It’s not too late to create the relationship you want with your child. There is still plenty of room for you to grow and blossom, so your child can do the same.

Last week I finally got a few tomatoes. The plant is perking up. My brown thumb is turning a little bit green. And I’m just learning. Next year’s crop will be better. I know it.

If I can learn how to raise two kinda fabulous young adults, if I can grow and learn and continue becoming the mom I want to be, I sure as heck can learn how to grow a tomato plant.

It's pretty rewarding to grow a healthy tomato plant, but it's a gazillion times more rewarding to raise healthy, happy kids. If you're ready to start your journey towards creating the environment that allows your kids to thrive, let’s chat. Click "Schedule a call" below.

Good Kids...Or Good Parents?

mvchristine2021@gmail.com (Christine Irvine) — Mon, 29 Aug 2022 22:15:39 GMT

Meeting our kids' needs is the secret to unlocking "good" behavior

When our flight from London to SF landed after nearly 11 hours in the air, I complimented the young mom and dad next to me. “You’re such wonderful parents!” I offered. I had been observing them for much of the flight.

A woman a few rows back gleamed at the parents: “Yes! Your kids were SO well behaved!” she gushed about the 18-month and three-year-old girls whose mostly-quiet cooperation was being praised.

I just smiled and nodded.

Because I know something that woman didn’t:

It was actually the parents who were “good.” The kids were just responding.

And fortunately for the kids, for the parents, and for everybody else on that long flight, the parents were very quietly and calmly meeting their kids’ needs. It was a pleasure to witness.

So here’s what I offer you today: There are no BAD kids. Or GOOD kids. Just kids who are trying to get their needs met.

(Some kids are more compliant than others, but that's the topic for another post!)

Are there BAD parents? For sure. We see their neglect and or abuse on the news all the time.

Are there GOOD parents? Absolutely YES! And those parents are you and I doing the best we can with what we have.

And our kids respond accordingly.

But, of course, sometimes--perhaps often--we fail. Sometimes we can’t be so calm or collected or have planned ahead quite that well. Sometimes we can’t figure out how to be the parent we want to be, even when we can see the goal right in front of us. Sometimes when parenting is really challenging, we can’t even SEE the goal.

The amazing news is WE CAN LEARN to be better. And do better. We can learn to have the kind of calm I witnessed today. Whether our kids are little ones who are crying because they don’t have words, or big ones who challenge us every day with their confusing and scary behaviors.

Right now maybe you can’t even imagine that. You’re thinking, how can I be calm when my kid is screaming in an airport, or saying rude things to me every time I say a single word, or lying about homework, or refusing to even talk to me at all? How is that even possible?

That’s OK. *I* know it’s possible. It was possible for me to learn, even when my kids were big and doing all kinds of pretty frustrating and scary things. And it’s been possible for many families whose transformations I’ve witnessed as a coach.

If you’re longing for a calmer, more connected family life and are ready to begin that journey, let's have a chat. Click below to schedule a call. And we'll take it from there.

Good Hair Day

Sun, 05 Jun 2022 22:19:01 GMT

I was really trying to, but in the end I couldn't fool myself.

April 2016

Seriously, my hair looks really good today. I spend the requisite seven minutes to blow it dry and style it and darn if it didn’t turn out looking pretty good. So then, I think, well I might as well put a little extra effort into my face. I rarely spend much time on my makeup (although I do wear some every day), but this time I really pay attention. Nice work! I look in the mirror and, thanks to the poor lighting in my bathroom, I think, I don’t look half bad! I have somewhat successfully diminished the depth of the purple under my eyes, and I've done a fair job covering up what we now more gently refer to as sun spots (that sounds so much better than age spots) and even the tiny pimple starting to appear on my chin. Why, I’m practically glowing!

Then I get dressed in my usual uniform, which almost always, unless it’s very hot, begins with a pair of jeans. Ripped, especially. I don’t know why I prefer a pair of distressed jeans over a nice new -looking pair, but I do. I’m forty-eight years old and I love my ripped jeans. Maybe it’s a not-trying-too hard look I’m going for because who wants to look like they thought for three hours about their outfit? Oh, haha! This old thing? I just threw it on. My knee is sticking out of this pair, but there’s no fabric flopping around, so it’s all good. I put on my new tee-shirt featuring a graphic of Marilyn Monroe’s face. I think it’s from an Andy Warhol painting. It’s pretty cool. Then a cardigan. I have a bunch of those because where I live pretty much every day is a sweater day. Wait, nope. That’s going to be too hot, so I trade it for my black fringed poncho. I feel cool in that. And then finally, the one deviation from my uniform: heels. I grab a pair of high-heeled, slingback studded clogs that I love but never wear for fear of a broken ankle. It’s almost always flat shoes for me, but clumsiness be damned today! I’m wearing high heels! I notice what I get out of wearing heels: being taller makes you feel skinnier, which feels good right now since there are at least 20 pounds I could lose and still not be especially thin. Plus you get a different view from four inches up. If you’ve never tried it, you’d be surprised at the difference!

I grab the dogs and head out the door. My first stop this morning is the groomer. I manage to walk the 20 steps to the door and deposit them without incident. It’s a good start to a day in heels (which, by the way, will spend every minute at home OFF my feet). Then I get back in the car and look in the mirror. My skin looks kind of luminous today and my hair still looks good. Damn, girl!

But those vertical lines between my eyebrows are working. They are working HARD. I try to relax my face, but it’s really difficult. I feel a headache brewing behind those lines. Confession: Once I even tried botox on those but found out my muscles up there are “too strong.” Yay, strong frown muscles! I don’t care about wrinkles, but I don’t want to look like I’m frowning all the time. Oh, well.

And there it is, a small but powerful sign of how I actually feel inside. I am overwhelmed with sadness at the duality. I imagine somebody looking at me from the outside. My five-year old luxury SUV has finally gotten properly cleaned inside and out and now looks like a shiny new car instead of the filthy family- and dog-mobile that it actually is most of the time. It’s a nice car, but it really just gets us and our stuff around. It really is a UTILITY vehicle.

I think I look pretty put-together, maybe like my newly-detailed car. But I don’t feel remotely put-together on the inside. I feel like I’m about to crack. Those frown lines on my face are like a gate holding back a massive breakdown. I feel the pressure. It doesn’t feel good.

This morning was rough. There was anxiety and frustration and anger and sadness and miscommunication and even kind of a fight. A typical morning with Maddie (no, she didn’t go to school) ended with some tension between me and my husband (not surprisingly, parents with special needs kids are more likely to get divorced, so we’re beating the odds). And now I’m feeling low. My life feels unmanageable. There is a lot of futility in what I do every day. But I do it. I try to maintain a calm inner self, and I do that pretty well, although I maintain my calm outer self much better. Today is like that. Good on the outside! Pretty shitty on the inside!

I’m trying to breathe. You know how in yoga you are supposed to breathe into parts of your body to help those parts relax? How do you breathe into your forehead? I’m not sure. I’m going to think about it, though. Not so much for how I look, but for I feel. There is so much tension up there. No wonder I get migraines.

I’m thinking about this now: how the inner life of a person is truly their inner life. Unless they say it out loud. Who knows what lurks below the shiny surface?

Yesterday I was in line at Whole Foods and the woman in front of me kept looking the groceries I had put on the conveyer belt and then back up at me. It was very noticeable. I thought maybe she didn’t approve of my purchases. Not one head of kale in the cart! No almond milk or herbs for aiding digestion! Bagels and cheese, though!

As I was trying to figure out where to look to cope with this uncomfortable moment, my eyes settled on something in her section of the conveyer belt. Lobster juice. I could barely complete the thought “Huh, lobster juice” before she spoke up. She was buying it for her cat, who has been unable to eat and has been losing weight. She hoped putting lobster juice on the kibble would encourage eating. She and her husband had taken the cat to a nearby vet school for care and after spending thousands of dollars already, they were faced with choosing whether or not to proceed with exploratory surgery, after which the two possible diagnoses required extensive and expensive treatments. She is torn.

I wasn’t sure what to say. Fifteen years ago the best cat in the whole world became very suddenly very ill, and not expecting anything but a solution, we spent $3000 on overnight care at the local emergency pet clinic, taking him back and forth for the night, and eventually allowed the vets to perform exploratory surgery to figure out the best solution. In our case, there was no solution. His intestines were disintegrating and there was nothing to be done. So we had put our poor dying cat through all that misery, spent all that money, and had only a dead cat three weeks later. It was terrible. We were heartbroken that he died, and I was even more heartbroken that his last few weeks were so miserable.

So, I wondered, do I say that out loud? I remembered when my aunt was diagnosed with cancer, and everybody told my mom (her sister) about how someone they know had cancer and then DIED. Good intentions gone awry! How about you know somebody who beat cancer? Or how about, “I’m so sorry.” Or how about shut up ?

I felt like she was telling me all this for a reason, though.

“Been there, done that,” I said. “Our cat had exploratory surgery and then it turned out they couldn’t do anything. We spent $3000 and ended up with a dead cat.” I was kind and sympathetic in tone, not angry, just relaying the facts.

She looked strangely relieved, as if I had give her permission to make the hard choice. Her cat is ten years old and she’s not sure she wants to give it chemo. I nodded. We understood each other.

For two minutes, she had a new friend, a sympathetic ear, a person who knew her most painful dilemma. I wouldn’t have given her a second look if she hadn’t been strangely eyeing my groceries and then finally spoken up about the lobster juice.

She paid for her groceries and said to me, “I’m sorry about your cat.”

“Good luck with your cat.”

We nodded at each other. And then she was gone.

And there you have it. We all have our stories. Some of our stories are camouflaged by fancy cars and good hair. Some of them hide in the plain view of the grocery store, if only we can see them. Or hear them. Or feel them. Or imagine them.

What is your story? Message me to share!

One Thing I Would NEVER Do Again As a Parent

mvchristine2021@gmail.com (Christine Irvine) — Mon, 28 Sep 2020 20:02:52 GMT

If you feel like simply getting out the door on time (tie your shoes… where’s your coat… do you have your lunch??) is a battle, the reality is that you are locked in a power struggle with your child.

Someone will “win” and someone will “lose.”

And while this can be hard to recognize in the moment, power struggles are counter productive when it comes to cultivating a loving, healthy relationship with your child.

Power over dynamics are ubiquitous in our culture. However, when we tap into a larger truth we can see that everyone is divinely worthy of their own thoughts, emotions and experiences.

Yep! Even your kids. When we succumb to the candy of a power struggle, we are diminishing our child’s (the one we’d gladly dive in front of a bus for) self-worth, inner authority and ultimately, causing separation in the relationship through an erosion of trust.

While the stakes of this seem small when children are young, this can lead to really negative repercussions when these little cuties turn into big cuties. Teenagers who aren’t in communication with their parents about big challenges make poor decisions.

However, when trust and communication strategies are established early, there is an unshakable foundation that you child knows they can rely upon. They will come to you. Even when things are hard.

This is not a case for permissive parenting.

Clearly, we are charged with teaching our children to behave in acceptable ways, and to embody the values that we hold dear. I’ve learned that this is far more effectively done through conscious communication and emotional demonstration than the old “power over” ways that most of us were parented.

When my kids were little, I was a HUGE fan of the show “Supernanny.” She relied on a punishment and apology frame. Time outs were the relied upon method of bending a 3-year old to your will as a parent. (I personally loved the show because it made me feel like other people were way worse at this parenting thing than I was, and I wasn’t particularly confident in my skills at the time.)

I implemented her methods with gusto.

You will put on your shoes, or else….

You will eat your broccoli, or else…

You will NOT hit your sister, or else…

Time out.

The deal was your kiddo was supposed to sit there for the number of minutes as their age, then apologize. If they didn’t apologize they had to sit there for another round.

I knew that this method wasn’t going to work the day my 3-year old son sat on that step for well over an hour (you do the math). But then… even worse, he wouldn’t look at me for the rest of the afternoon.

I’d damaged our relationship in the name of control, and I vowed I would never do it again.

The key is to learn to be an authoritative parent that sees, understands and respects the individual experience of your child. When you communicate clearly, and are willing to own your own emotional experience, while allowing this little human to own his or hers, you can be in a powerful cooperative relationship.

Power struggles will sometimes (rarely) be necessary. So save them for when they count.