Award-winning author, L.R.Knost

teens

Babies Do Not Manipulate-They Communicate

[Portions reprinted from Whispers Through Time: Communication Through the Ages and Stages of Childhood by L.R.Knost. Two Thousand Kisses a Day: Gentle Parenting Through the Ages and Stages  and The Gentle Parent: Positive, Practical, Effective Discipline also available on Amazon and through other major retailers.]

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black baby cryingOn a recent trip to the park, I overheard a parent ranting and raving about a little one “being a brat and always pitching fits.” It took me less than two seconds of looking at the child to realize his mother had put him down on hot asphalt without shoes on, and his ‘fit’ was actually cries of pain as he danced around trying to keep his poor little feet off the asphalt while trying to push past his mommy to get back into the car. In a few years this mother will wonder why her ten-year-old is always so sullen and silent.

Later the same day in Wal-mart, a three-year-old asked her mommy what plastic wrap was for. The mother rolled her eyes and snapped, “For wrapping food in plastic, duh.” A few years from now, this mother will confess to a friend that she has no idea why her nine-year-old is so mouthy and rude.

Minutes later, a two-year-old riding past me in a shopping cart pointed at a toy and babbled in her cute baby language, looking at her daddy with a delighted smile. Her father ignored her first few attempts to get his attention, then finally barked, “Shut up!” without ever looking at her. In a few years this father will complain to his co-workers that his teenaged daughter never talks to him.

Communication in my son’s Tae Kwon Do classes is called, “The link between the world and me.” In the parent/child relationship, communication is entirely…hear this…entirely the responsibility of the parent. From the moment a child enters the world, they are trying to communicate. Crying, grunting, making eye contact, mirroring expressions, all of these things are the instinctive tools built into infants to reach out into a brand new world and make contact. They can do no more. It is entirely up to the parent to make the connection, to respond, to build those all-important ‘lines of communication’ that will be so vitally important to parents in later childhood. Communication is not something that just happens. It is not something that begins when a child becomes verbal, and it’s not a product of a child’s advancing maturity. Communication is a process, a relational building block, a result of intentional and responsive parenting.

quote babies cannot manipulate 2Crying is often mischaracterized as manipulation, and adults are certainly capable of using it that way. But to project such motivations on a baby is to grant them a level of skill and control far, far beyond their capabilities, and that is a potentially disastrous mistake. A parent’s perception of the motivation behind their child’s behavior is often the single most powerful determinant of the parent’s response. And the parental response or lack of response to a nonverbal child’s cries either builds or damages their communication and connection. There is no in between, no neutral.

Babies cannot and do not manipulate. They communicate. Listen. Respond. You aren’t being manipulated. You are being a parent.

And hear this well, parents, your relationship with your teenager is being established now, while your child is still a toddler. Your discipline issues with your nine-year-old are being minimized or intensified right now, while he is reaching out to you in infancy. Preschooler’s tantrums are being moderated or exacerbated at this moment by your response or lack of response to your baby’s cries.

And the responsibility for building communication and connection with your child doesn’t end when your child becomes verbal. There is a reason children aren’t classified as adults until they are, in fact, adults. They simply do not have the judgment, experience, or maturity of an adult. Parents, you are the center of your child’s world for many years, and they will model themselves after the example you set.

If you listen to them, they will learn to listen. If you are rude to them, they will learn to be rude. If you treat them with respect, they will learn to be respectful. If you are angry, demanding, and harsh with them, they will learn to be angry, demanding, and harsh.

You decide every day by your parenting choices what kind of an adult you are going to raise. So live out how you want your children to turn out. That is the heart and soul of gentle, effective parenting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Related posts:

12 Steps to Gentle Parenting

The Taming of the Tantrum: A Toddler’s Perspective

When Children Act Out ~ Reflecting Our Emotions

Backtalk is Communication…LISTEN

Testing the Boundaries~What’s a Parent to Do?

Award-winnning author, L.R.Knost, is the founder and director of the children's rights advocacy and family consulting group, Little Hearts/Gentle Parenting Resources, and Editor-in-Chief of Holistic Parenting Magazine. Books by L.R.Knost include Whispers Through Time: Communication Through the Ages and Stages of Childhood ; Two Thousand Kisses a Day: Gentle Parenting Through the Ages and Stages ; The Gentle Parent: Positive, Practical, Effective Discipline ; and Jesus, the Gentle Parent: Gentle Christian Parenting the first four books in the Little Hearts Handbook gentle parenting series, and children’s picture books Petey’s Listening Ears and the soon-to-be-released Grumpykins series.


~The Overflowing Heart~

The optimist says, the cup is half full. The pessimist says, the cup is half empty. The child of God says; My cup runneth over.

Anonymous

 

~~~Today I am grateful for~~~

 

Little girls who still believe in knights on white horses and princess castles…

 

Bravery (What now, SPD?!?!)…

 

Silliness…

 

Memories…

 

A man so in love with his family that this is just a ‘some day’ wish, and he’s okay with that… 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

                                             Dedication…

 

 

 

 

And moms who sew!

 

Award-winnning author, L.R.Knost, is the founder and director of the children's rights advocacy and family consulting group, Little Hearts/Gentle Parenting Resources, and Editor-in-Chief of Holistic Parenting Magazine. Books by L.R.Knost include Whispers Through Time: Communication Through the Ages and Stages of Childhood ; Two Thousand Kisses a Day: Gentle Parenting Through the Ages and Stages ; The Gentle Parent: Positive, Practical, Effective Discipline ; and Jesus, the Gentle Parent: Gentle Christian Parenting the first four books in the Little Hearts Handbook gentle parenting series, and children’s picture books Petey’s Listening Ears and the soon-to-be-released Grumpykins series.


A September to Remember: Unraveling What I’ve Knit Together

Here’s my very last ~A September to Remember~ guest post! I’ll be sharing a wrap-up soon of all the wonderful ‘vintage finds’ shared by these awesome writers. So enjoy this last, but so very not least, post from a very raw and honest Zoie @ TouchstoneZ. (Loss mentioned)

 

~~~~Unraveling What I’ve Knit Together~~~

I have early memories of feeling wrong within myself. I may have been four years old the first time I can recall believing I was bad. I know I didn’t have the words to identify the feelings, but I had them. I have never felt that I had the right to be alive. My entire life, I have had this little doubt that crept into every experience and tainted it just enough to keep me from holding it fully to my heart-the belief that I was broken somewhere inside.

I found this poem I wrote fifteen years ago:

Since Puck is Taken

If I show you my poetry

You will see inside of me

Core of polluting coal

50 pack lung-seeming soul

Craven, cowering

Rotten bulb flowering

So I will never show

And you will never know

And it dawned on me why the circular thinking of PPD was so appealing to me. It felt like a comfy wool sweater that was well-worn and familiar. I could slip it on like a protection from the elements of my life that felt raw and chafing. I had worn this sweater before. The only time I can recall taking it off was after the birth of my first child. I felt so empowered that nothing could make me un-love myself.

Then I got pregnant for the second time. And that pregnancy ended in a stillbirth. And I pulled my old sweater on without even noticing. I didn’t take it off for the birth of my second son. I zipped it up and added a hood when I got PPD for the first time. Then, the PPD was a bit better and I took off the hood. I mourned the lost time from the PPD haze but wasn’t ready to take it off yet. It wasn’t until after the birth of my third son and PPD returned that I had had enough. I didn’t want to lose more time to this.

I decided that this time, instead of periodically trying to rip off the sweater and throw it away (because that always ended up with me digging frantically in my mental garbage bins to put it back on) I would caress the sweater. Enjoy its fine knit and excellent fit. I made this sweater. I placed each stitch of wool in myself. It is lovingly crafted to protect me and I honor it for what I have made. I honor myself that at least some small part of me has always been able to see the true me and wrap it up in warmth and protection.

For the first time, perhaps in my life, I feel ready to address a lifetime of depression. I can notice it because of the skills I have been working on: sitting with uncomfortable feelings and holding them. Just holding them.

Grief

Grief over the loss of my daughter. Grief over the loss of all the parts of myself I never allowed. Grief over the childhood, teenhood, and adulthood that was black with this belief.

Grief

Grief over how things are not the way I want them to be. Grief over the loss of time and closeness with my children and my husband. Grief over not living my life the way I wanted and for not being as loving with myself and others as I want to be.

Grief

I’ve been allowing grief to arise. I’ve been putting my arms around my heart to hold me together because I’m afraid I’ll fly apart if I even look at these feelings. I’ve been noticing them, crying over them, and watching them come and go as I need them to.

And Anger. There’s a lot of anger underneath the grief, and I’m terrified of anger. I don’t know what to do with it. So, I don’t do anything with it. I sit with it. I can always put my sweater back on if it gets too scary. It’s folded up in my lap for whenever I need to hide.

 

Don’t forget to head over to check out Zoie @ TouchstoneZ!

Award-winnning author, L.R.Knost, is the founder and director of the children's rights advocacy and family consulting group, Little Hearts/Gentle Parenting Resources, and Editor-in-Chief of Holistic Parenting Magazine. Books by L.R.Knost include Whispers Through Time: Communication Through the Ages and Stages of Childhood ; Two Thousand Kisses a Day: Gentle Parenting Through the Ages and Stages ; The Gentle Parent: Positive, Practical, Effective Discipline ; and Jesus, the Gentle Parent: Gentle Christian Parenting the first four books in the Little Hearts Handbook gentle parenting series, and children’s picture books Petey’s Listening Ears and the soon-to-be-released Grumpykins series.


A September to Remember: I’ve Gone to the Dork Side

 

Such a sweet ‘attic find’ from Zoie @ TouchstoneZ!

 

~~I’ve Gone to the Dork Side~~

 

A Lego CityImage via Wikipedia

Nat has a fairly decent obsession with Legos right now. So, we took the family to a Lego convention in San Jose. Being Legos and being in Silicon Valley, the convention was filled with a variety of nerd species. There were steam punks, Star Wars and Star Trek (avoiding one another of course) and even a few self-created Sci-fi-ish creatures. The majority were those I affectionately call garden variety geeks.

I love nerds. I wish when I was younger that I had recognized their coolness. I would have made much healthier choices in boyfriends and girlfriends if I had gone to the dork side earlier. Most of the kids in my circle were more concerned with vying for social status than in being kind or understanding of other people. It was not something I enjoyed, so I hopped around from friend to friend every few weeks when the back-biting got to be too mean for me. I have found most geeks to be genuinely interested in understanding one another’s diversity in a more organic way than the garden variety un-geek. There are of course many exceptions on both sides of wherever that arbitrary dork-line is drawn. I tend to be attracted to those who have that quality of acceptance and really, even the un-geeks are still freaks, they’re just better at appearing normal (cliché alert: whatever normal is)

I’m married to a self-named geek. I’m not entirely certain that his high school classmates would agree if his yearbook is any indication. But he does have the hallmarks, such as, being a techie, loving SciFi, and having a few embarrassing photos of his 12 year old self, involving a Blues Brothers hat and shorty-short shorts. Aside from that, he’s self-confident although quiet. He’s very open to his much more emotional wife’s hare-brained ideas about crunchy parenting and green living (except backyard chickens, but I’m working on that.) He’s down with wearing a Star Wars shirt and rocking an Ergo.

We went from display to display of intricate lego builds with Nat extolling his wonderment. Gan had an excellent view from the carrier on his Dad’s back, so was also entranced. Bud was getting squirmy and needed a feed, though. I spotted an empty hotel conference room style chair pushed against the wall and quickly pounced on it so I wouldn’t have to breastfeed sitting on the floor. Sitting on the floor to breastfeed can be nice because fewer people glance at me (unless I position myself accidentally at a hallway junction or something, as I’ve been known to do when distracted by a rooting bub) But I’d prefer not to directly expose myself or my nursling to the unknown level of cleanliness of or the industrial cleaners used on a hotel conference hall carpet.

Lego FestivalMy View of Lego Festival

So, I breastfed on this hotel chair with my back to the wall, sandwiched between some worn out grandparents and I noticed something. I was being looked at. A lot. But, not in the way you’re probably thinking. It certainly wasn’t something I was used to.

There were many moms there trailing behind their gangly teen sons who overtopped them by a foot. And they would each smile fondly as they passed by. I could see in their faces that they remembered their boys as babes at the breast. I felt uplifted by these wordless connections. It’s not often I have such an overwhelmingly supportive experience breastfeeding in a crowd of strangers.

I smiled at my own nursling and imagined him overtopping me by a foot by the time he’s a teenager. I hope I’m lucky enough to trail behind him at a Lego festival and smile wistfully at another mama breastfeeding a future dork.

 

Thank you to Zoie @ TouchstoneZ for her generous contributions to ~A September to Remember~ and don’t forget to check out her blog!

 

 

Award-winnning author, L.R.Knost, is the founder and director of the children's rights advocacy and family consulting group, Little Hearts/Gentle Parenting Resources, and Editor-in-Chief of Holistic Parenting Magazine. Books by L.R.Knost include Whispers Through Time: Communication Through the Ages and Stages of Childhood ; Two Thousand Kisses a Day: Gentle Parenting Through the Ages and Stages ; The Gentle Parent: Positive, Practical, Effective Discipline ; and Jesus, the Gentle Parent: Gentle Christian Parenting the first four books in the Little Hearts Handbook gentle parenting series, and children’s picture books Petey’s Listening Ears and the soon-to-be-released Grumpykins series.


Meanderings by Rosemary Jones

I wish there was someplace less than 30 miles away that could make me a good macchiato. But nooooo. Seattle is the only home of decent coffee. Not li’l ole Everett. I wish baristas wouldn’t ask “Like, a caramel macchiato?” when you order your drink.

I wish we could live in Seattle. The pawnshops, the boarded up pay-by-the-hour motels, the dirt of our surroundings wears on me at times. But then I see the dirt of Seattle, and know that there are hurting people and disease of the soul and ugliness everywhere and that the only utopia will be after this life. And then I come home and see the beauty of our culturally diverse neighborhood; projects yes, but a dozen countries represented, children tearing about in the nearby parks hollering at each other in a dozen different languages, and I know our multi-cultural-ministry hearts are planted here for a reason.

I wish Jesus were here in the flesh so I could ask Him a whole load of questions.

I wish my little section of heaven would include my CuteBoy best friend ever, a truly free spirit, texture and color and beauty yet unseen, somehow the perfect blend of a rich, heterogeneous urban dwelling with galleries and street musicians and food hawkers on one half and the other half an endless ocean, the waves crashing, the salty seaweed scent soothing, and the ability to switch between the sounds of the urban and the sounds of the sea at my will. I would wish for the assignment of food, food, food, glorious food. Heavenly food, access to anything and everything, each era, each region, each culture on earth and in heaven represented on my menu; no burnt fingertips, no pots boiled over, no underdone bites. I’d serve a dozen courses to Esther and Vashti and Hagar and Jael and every other fierce woman in Biblical history. I’d serve them to my dear Ruthie, my Ugandan sister I wish to see this side of heaven. I’d serve them to my grandmother and my sister… the older sister I was supposed to have, who was taken to heaven too soon, I’d serve them to my babies I never got to hold. And of course Jesus in the flesh so I can ask Him a whole load of questions. We would eat and drink and talk and never grow full or tired or bored or annoyed because someone said something stupid.

But chances are, He’s laughing at my wishing imaginings of heaven ’cause His unknowable plans are a whole lot better. I wish I had a home big enough for all of these babies.

I wish for the day we take our family to that Great Horn, the source of the Nile, the land that holds the best food in the world to finally meet the rest of our babies I know God has for us.

I wish I saw children spoken to with the respect they deserve more often than I do.

I wish I knew how to say more than “Where’s the post office?” in Russian. That was an expensive class.

I wish Every Single Person would take the time to listen to this man’s story. Really Listen To It.

And while you’re at it, read this book too.

I used to wish for bigger breasts, critically eyeing my 12-year-old body, wishing for justthatmuchmore and now I wish for a flatter stomach, critically eyeing my 32-year-old momma body, wishing for justthatmuchless. Which my husband reminds me is absurd, it’s sexy because it’s an empty pocket where our daughter grew and how much more beautiful is that? I now wish my daughter will not be subjected to our culture’s obsession with physical perfection, and if necessary, has her own husband to remind her of her true beauty.

I wish I always knew what was going on in my BabyGirl’s head and how to translate her sweet babblings and raspberries into words I understand.

I wish I knew how to make a killer hollandaise sauce. And a sexy poached egg. And perfectly crisp hashbrowns. Then I would never have to go to another diner again.

I wish I could bottle the scent in the crook of my daughter’s neck. But it’s so much more than the scent… It’s the sensation of her hair grazing her earlobe and the tip of my nose, it’s her giggles when I kiss her, it’s the peace of breathing her in after she’s asleep. That’s what I wish I could bottle.

I wish Every Single Child was parented with intentionality, with grace, without violence, with the closest thing we can possibly achieve to the perfection of our Heavenly Father.

I wish every heart, including mine, would expand to defend and provide and rescue the orphan. That every heart would break for the things that break His.

Only I don’t have to wish. Because I serve a God who hears my prayers and does as He sees fit.

Which even though I don’t understand it, is usually better than my wishes anyway.

Award-winnning author, L.R.Knost, is the founder and director of the children's rights advocacy and family consulting group, Little Hearts/Gentle Parenting Resources, and Editor-in-Chief of Holistic Parenting Magazine. Books by L.R.Knost include Whispers Through Time: Communication Through the Ages and Stages of Childhood ; Two Thousand Kisses a Day: Gentle Parenting Through the Ages and Stages ; The Gentle Parent: Positive, Practical, Effective Discipline ; and Jesus, the Gentle Parent: Gentle Christian Parenting the first four books in the Little Hearts Handbook gentle parenting series, and children’s picture books Petey’s Listening Ears and the soon-to-be-released Grumpykins series.


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