For as wonderful as the holiday season is, it does not come without its challenges for me (and many others). Earlier in the year, I had convinced my family to take a trip to San Diego with our gift money, so that I could escape the shopping and the hassle of decorating. However, as it turns out, our trailer needed some repairs to make it road-worthy in a storm, and it wasn’t something we were going to have time to do. So now, the kids are excited that there will be presents, my husband is excited that he doesn’t have to drive anywhere or fix a trailer. And I’m so not-excited, as the all the things I was hoping to avoid are inevitably falling back in my lap. Le sigh.
I knew it was December 1 on Monday, because my insomnia kicked in and my eye started twitching. I’ve got all these people telling me to keep it simple, but I also have my daughter who erupts into tears every time I suggest that I need to eat breakfast before I can help decorate the house. It is a difficult balance, for sure, and requires regular patience.
Yesterday morning I was feeling particularly overwhelmed, as I was on the way to work, and also making other big decisions this week (because, that’s the way to simplify life, right? Adding, “make other big decisions about things” to the to-do list, right next to “eat breakfast” or “take a shower”).
I was getting ready to meditate and came across this clip from Pema Chodron and Oprah Winfrey:
It was transformational for me yesterday, and helped me find the patience I needed to get me through the challenges of the day. It is part of the human experience that we pass through periods of suffering—on large scales (with death, illness, and major life transitions), and on small scales (can’t find a parking spot, the clerk at the store wasn’t helpful, have to shovel the walks). And so, with that in mind, I pass on a message that I hope may be healing to anyone in our Song of the Heart community who may be suffering: You are enough.
Disclaimer–this isn’t my daughter. But isn’t she delightful?
My youngest daughter turned 6 just before Halloween. With a new job, Halloween costumes and laundry to do, I did something I’ve never yet done with any of my kids’ birthdays—I got some outside help. We had her birthday party at the Song of the Heart studio, with the help of Ms. Katie.
As I’ve talked to other recovering perfectionists, I’ve realized that there really isn’t any set standard of what is “perfect,” it just kind of depends on our own definitions of “ideal.” I’ve been doing “super-mommy” for many years (rather than “real life” mommy, which I’m discovering is infinitely more enjoyable). But for me that has meant having great home birthday parties—complete with making our own lasagna, or doing puppy face-painting, or walking the plank like pirates (all of which included Pinterest-worthy, homemade invitations). I shudder to think how much stress I inflicted on myself and those around me or how much joy I perhaps sucked out of the room in an attempt to make it joyful. (I also try to be kind to myself and realize that my kids, once they’ve had an appropriate amount of therapy, may figure out that I really was doing all of this because I loved them. Passionately. And that this was the best way I could show it at the time.)
While I recognize that other moms, long ago, have figured out the beauty of getting help with a birthday party, it was revelatory for me this year, and born out of necessity.
And I’m not sure I’ll ever go back.
My daughter has been totally into dolphins these days, so we did an ocean theme. Ms. Katie was fantastic, and the speedboats/Bilibos were a total hit. Afterwards, we had a little picnic lunch and cake at the studio. We enjoyed ourselves tremendously, and the girls ended the party reluctantly.
My older two kids (a 12-year old and a 9-year old) were at first way too cool to participate. Nevertheless, eventually they got into it and they contributed a lot of energy to the room (the giant scarves and the motorboats helped draw them in, for sure). It warmed my little mama heart to see them dancing as they used to, but of course now much, much bigger than they were when they participated in Kindermusik as students.
There were some activities that they hadn’t remembered doing (but which obviously I have lots of memories about, as I’ve written previously). Even still, I found it fascinating to watch my oldest daughter dance with a scarf. She has danced for many years in her post-Kindermusik life, so it was no surprise to me to see her move so gracefully.
Nevertheless, I firmly believe (and research will support my belief) that even her Kindermusik experience informs her current dancing abilities, even if she doesn’t remember the specifics of class with me. She’s had many, many years of practicing a variety of movements and learning to express herself through dance, and that started in our living room in New Mexico.
In Kindermusik, we talk about developing the whole child. Watching my older children, I started thinking that maybe “whole child” isn’t just about an education for the present moment—it’s also about the whole of childhood. As we approach Thanksgiving, then, I can definitely say I’m grateful for the opportunities for learning and growth that have come to my family through Kindermusik.
One of the ways we can connect with our kids, Dr. Naumburg asserts, is by soothing them. We all get upset (just moments ago I had to break the news to my Kindergartner that yes, she does have school today, much to her frustration). She writes:
“[Our children are] young, they’re immature, and their brains haven’t yet developed the ability to figure out what is worth getting upset about and what isn’t, nor are they able to quickly and consistently calm themselves down. That’s where we parents come in. We can share our calm presence with our children time and again until they start to internalize it for themselves.” (pg. 25)
Of course, this is easier said than done, but one of the themes of this book is that we don’t have to be perfect at it, we just have to keep swimming. Oh, no, wait, that’s Dory. Well, same idea—returning repeatedly to our goal, that’s what’s important.
She mentions music as one of the tools we can use to calm our kids and ourselves. Just yesterday, in a moment of stress, I heard a few bars of George Winston’s Thanksgiving track, from the December album, one that I played often in my late-high school and early-college years to soothe my stress—and I noticed an immediate, physical calming yesterday, too.
Years ago I burned a CD of my favorite Kindermuisk lullabies. (Yes, this was before I could put together a “playlist.” But it was many years after needing to make a “mixed tape.”) They represent moments of pure joy and peace from cuddling my babies in class, and as I play the CD even today, it’s nice to see how much of a calming effect it has on everyone (this can be especially helpful on car trips, as long as the driver doesn’t get too calm).
Here are some of the songs from that album. Check them out–you can even download them for your own playlist!
Simple Gifts (this particular version I love, love, love)
“We have a choice. We can spend our whole life suffering because we can’t relax with how things really are, or we can relax and embrace the open-endedness of the human situation, which is fresh, unfixated, unbiased.”
― Pema Chödrön, Living Beautifully: with Uncertainty and Change
This morning my sister-in-law told me that my nephew, who is 27 months old, got very upset when they bought diapers yesterday. While she was able to sneak them into the cart when he wasn’t looking, he was so adamant that they not come home that, when he saw them at checkout, he took the package back to the diaper aisle and left it there. Of course, he’s not really potty-trained yet, either, so she’s helping him clean up, a natural consequence.
I really love my sister-in-law, and I admire the sense of humor she had in telling me the story. I believe that one of the things that helps us through such days as parents is a sense of acceptance—or, at any rate, I’ve learned that the more accepting I am of the situation as I find it, the easier it is for me to get through such moments with a bit of humor.
These days, with my relatively new job, people often ask, “How is it going?”
I teach Spanish to Kindergarten through eighth grade students. However, they don’t come in order of age—so, my first graders come into class right after my fifth graders. I go into Kindergarten between seventh and eighth grade classes. While I try to teach some of the same lessons to multiple grades, even within that lesson I have to make micro adjustments according to which group of kids I’m teaching.
And, just as in parenting, things go more smoothly when I practice acceptance of where my students are at any given moment. The first graders come right after recess. It took me all of about two days to realize that I could either spend the whole time telling them they couldn’t go get water, or I could line everyone up at the drinking fountain before coming into class. (This happened right about the time I figured out we needed to do “Breathing Arms.”) In my ideal world, of course, they’d all have water bottles, full and ready to go. I can have a high level of expectation about that. However, it’s not the reality, and to maintain that expectation only means frustration for everyone. Such an age span means that I continually have to adjust my expectations for where the kids are at on any given day, at any particular age, with any particular mix of kids. It is good practice for my life outside the classroom, too.
I notice the same with Kindermusik. When my child is tired or hungry, being in class may be tough for her. “Should” it be? No, often she just ate. But maybe it’s that she’s going through a growth spurt and needs more sleep or food. Maybe she’s getting a bit of a cold and I haven’t realized it yet.
In Kindermusik, we follow the child. That means sometimes our kids may not feel like participating as fully as they did last week or will again next week—and it’s OK! Maybe they decide to have a full-blown temper tantrum in the middle of class because they just can’t let go of the scarf. My son regularly did not want to do group things during Kindermusik class when he was a preschooler. The quicker I get over thinking, “This is not how it’s supposed to be,” the sooner I get to, “This is how it is,” and consequently, the easier it is to just deal with the situation at hand and calmly allow the natural consequences to follow. That may mean hanging back and letting my child participate on her own terms. It may mean getting food, or leaving class altogether, or otherwise patiently implementing some discipline strategies. (To be clear: I’m not saying this is easy!) When I’m parenting from this place of self-acceptance, I am giving my kids the gift of a mom who also accepts them.
All this goes to the heart of what I believe is one of our greatest needs as humans–to know that we are loved, wholly and completely for who we are, rather than for what we do.
In my teaching job as a Spanish teacher, I teach all 9 grades at my school (K-8). I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m a secondary educator by formal education training, and so I am relying heavily on my background as a Kindermuisk instructor to help me with the younger grades. The first graders come to class right after recess, just after I’ve said goodbye to my fifth graders. It is quite the switch.
At first, I was overwhelmed with the frenetic energy they brought to the room. With only 25 minutes to help them learn Spanish, spending 10 trying to get them to calm down was proving to be problematic. About 3 days into the job, I attended Kindermusik with my daughter and as I entered class to meet with her and Ms. Carol, we did some “breathing arms.” Of course, I have known about breathing arms for many years, but on this day, I noticed the immediate change in energy of the Kindermusik class—for both the kids and the grownups. In addition to providing us with a little routine that said, “Time to stop talking with your little ones/grown-ups and focus on class together,” it immediately relieved my own level of stress. The next day I implemented breathing arms with my first graders when they come in for recess (I could probably do it with everyone), and the difference was remarkable. They are much calmer before they even come into class and our time together is more relaxed, effective and enjoyable.
I’m not surprised to find science to back-up my claims. NPR cites research by Esther Sternberg, physician and National Institute of Mental Health researcher:
“(Breathing exercises) can be used as a method to train the body’s reaction to stressful situations and dampen the production of harmful stress hormones,” Gretchen Cuda writes. Who doesn’t need a reduction of stress these days?
Jon Kabbat-Zinn is one of my favorite people. He created the Stress Reduction Clinic and the Center for Mindfulness in Medicine, Health Care and Society at the University of Massachusetts Medical School, and his work has influenced me tremendously in recent years. If you have 3 minutes today, especially if you are overwhelmed with the day-to-day challenges of balancing life and laundry and childcare, this little breathing meditation is awesome:
In my daughter’s Kindermusik for the Young Childclass this week, Ms. Carol asked the kids to pick up rhythm sticks and scarves, each in turn. This step required the kids to stop one movement quickly and start another one, all in line with the mood of the music. Music games are a great way to help kids learn impulse control.
Neurons (the nerve cells mostly in our brain) work in only 2 ways: on and off. Hopefully, by the time our children are adults, they have learned to balance the activation and inhibition messages of their brains. Clearly, however, there are neurological and other physical/psychological disorders that influence a person’s ability to regulate impulsiveness—and it is always important to make sure the expectations we have of our kids are developmentally appropriate for them and their particular circumstances.
I find it interesting, though, that the other side of impulse control can be a child’s tendency to stick to one action or thought for a long time. In this situation, rather than illustrating a child’s inability to turn “off” the impulse to act, perseveration illustrates child’s inability to turn “on” the impulse to act.
I’ve mentioned a few times about my new part-time Spanish teaching gig. While I am a trained secondary educator, in my new job I teach all of the kids at school, from Kindergarten through eighth grade. My background as a Kindermusik educator has been incredibly helpful, since Kindermusik classes span a similarly broad range of developmental milestones in kids, when you compare the babies to the first grade graduates.
Throughout my day, I see exactly how impulse control varies as kids mature. Kids’ ability to control their impulses influences their abilities to learn at school. Additionally, I note that for some kids, their pervasive impulsivity or perseveration presents some big challenges that may have life-long consequences for them. Every half-hour, though, as new classes come in, I have to adjust my expectations to allow for brain maturity—and, interestingly, some of my toughest kids are in the upper grades (because: puberty—when the brain forgets everything it was capable of doing just months ago).
Of course, as parents, we have to deal with the consequences of children’s impulsivity. I spend much of my day at home with the kids refereeing the “Moooommm, he hit me!” sentiments.
Have you seen this ad? I’m sure the folks at the ad agency know exactly the kinds of situations that caregivers face when dealing with developing brains and poor impulse control. When I see that kid’s smile at the end, I just want to give him a great big hug. (Small print: I’m not endorsing Clorox, nor is the studio paid to pass along this ad. I am, however, their target audience so I see it a lot and my heart melts every time.)
One can find many resources for methods of dealing with the behaviors in the moment. But I love the idea of using games (when everyone is happy and not trying to rush out the door to school) as a tool for such development, too.
Other ways that we work on impulse control in Kindermusik classes include “freeze” dances for the preschoolers. With the toddlers, we have “fast and slow” dances, which invite kids to practice moving at different paces as cued by the music. Even with the babies when we transition from activity to activity, we are using play to help stimulate neural development.
Yes, in Kindermusik we teach music. But what a great way to use music to help develop the whole of our children!
“The only reason we don’t open our hearts and minds to other people is that they trigger confusion in us that we don’t feel brave enough or sane enough to deal with. To the degree that we look clearly and compassionately at ourselves, we feel confident and fearless about looking into someone else’s eyes. ”
–Pema Chödrön
This week my 12-year old had a root canal due to a tooth injury she sustained over the summer. The doctor came out afterwards to show me the baby tooth he extracted. Apparently, she hadn’t lost her full baby tooth, and the gum has been growing up around it. It’s probably been irritating her for a very long time. I realized that this would have probably happened right about the time that my baby was being born, when I was sleepless and preoccupied otherwise.
At that moment with the doctor, I felt this immediate rush of Mama Shame, believing that I had somehow neglected my oldest daughter’s oral health during that time (I’ve since talked to a few people and have developed a little compassion for myself).
Later that afternoon, my youngest (who is now almost 6) was telling me that her ears were popping (like when we go up the canyon), and asked me if I sounded different to her. I didn’t give it much thought because I was shuffling my oldest around between school and the dentist. This morning, in the wee small hours, I felt a tapping on my leg and heard a crying voice, “Moooom! My ear really hurts!” We just got back from the doctor and she has a raging ear infection. Again with the Mama Shame, only this time in reverse: much preoccupied with my oldest daughter, I’ve been neglecting my youngest daughter’s earlier signals that something was amiss.
I was engaged in an online discussion this week with several other women who worry that they are messing up their children’s lives. I admitted that I struggle with getting the laundry done—my son hasn’t worn a different shirt all week. (Eeek! I’m putting this out there on the Internet for ever and ever and for thousands of people!) I regularly fear that I’m That Mom. The one who will be saving up for therapy for my kids rather than for college.
Perhaps this is the kind of discussion that only perfectionists like me have (others in this world seem to have an easier time having patience with themselves than I do). Perhaps not. But I share here, with the hope to impart some compassion for us, with a little pep talk.
Being a parent is hard. Being in relationship with anyone, it is full of risks and rewards. Finding a balance between all of our responsibilities while guiding our kids on this journey, can be really difficult. Inevitably, we will fail. Because now that I consider myself to be a “recovering perfectionist,” I fully understand that the beauty of life comes from the great variation that exists in everything. The shades of gray are the tones that make a black and white photograph attractive.
But I hold strongly to the idea that we make meaning in life when we persist in engaging. When we dust ourselves off, forgive ourselves, and keep moving forward. Like Dori sings, “Just keep swimming.”
” It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”
As I mentioned in my last post, my youngest child began Kindergarten this week. She is in a part-time program, and attends in the afternoons. I teach Spanish two days a week, leaving me 3 mornings to hang out just with her. I know this one-on-one time is short-lived, and so despite having a new classroom to set up, lesson plans to create, or grading to do (let alone laundry to fold and the kitchen floor to mop), I’m trying to set some time with her each morning I’m home to play.
My new favorite parenting book, Playful Parenting, (about which I’ve written before, here), talks about following our children’s lead when it comes to playing. The author, Lawrence Cohen, Ph.D., says:
“Following a child’s lead means that every once in a while (as often as we can handle it), children need us to be hugely enthusiastic, to say yes in a booming voice instead of the constant parade of no. . . . Try counting how many times you say no to children in an hour, or in a day. I think you’ll be shocked. We often feel compelled to jump in and say no when they are doing something or suggesting something that we know is a bad idea. Unfortunately, jumping in does not help them develop their own good judgment. They simply have to discover certain things for themselves, and the best way for them to do this is with our encouragement and support” (pg. 154).
In Kindermusik, you will hear your teacher say to follow your child’s lead. The heart of the Kindermusik philosophy centers on children. From the very structure of the Kindermusik curricula (keeping each class developmentally appropriate) to the way this plays out in class (allowing kids to play with instruments in ways that appeal to them), following our child’s lead helps them experience music-making in a way that is fun and exciting. It also allows them to use music to grow in other ways—developing connections with their loved ones, understanding cause and effect, or developing balance and coordination.
Dr. Cohen continues, “Just saying yes means having a basic attitude of acceptance rather than rejection, approval rather than disapproval. Be animated as you play: use gestures, your voice, and facial expressions.”
But, yes, sometimes all this play and following our child’s leads can be exhausting—this is what gets us into wanting to say “no.” The games kids play are often terribly uninteresting to us. We may feel stupid, or out of our comfort zone. For this reason, Dr. Cohen also notes that, “The best way to recover from an emotionally draining PlayTime is to talk to other parents about it, especially other parents who are trying out the same thing,” (pg. 166).
This is one of my favorite parts of the Song of the Heart studio as it is currently situated—there’s a park nearby and a coffee shop upstairs. It provides great opportunities for our Kindermusik families to develop connections outside of class—going to the park together after class and letting the kids play a little more. We grown-ups can recover by chatting with the other moms from class over a snack from Big Dog. If we take care of ourselves, it can be far easier to tend to our children’s need to play.
With a new Kindermusik year approaching, and a respite from our rainy August, we find ourselves with an ideal situation to make new friends at the studio (and meet old ones again). At any rate, it’s also a great time to remember that, in all of the chaos of a new school year, our kids will benefit when we take care of ourselves, too.
I heard it said last week that parenthood is a continual journey of letting go, from the moment our children enter our lives.
Next week my youngest daughter will enter Kindergarten. I rather pride myself on being the mom who doesn’t have a hard time with the fact that her kids are in school (Are you kidding? After all the typical sibling fighting that I endure each summer? He was referring to OUR family when he sang, “And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again,” even though we’re some months off from that particular song.). Nevertheless, I think I may actually tear up on Monday. Or, burst into a chorus of “Sunrise, Sunset.”
Two years ago, I began spending less time with her in Kindermusik. We went from the toddler class (when I was with her the entire time) to the preschool class (when I joined her for the last 10 minutes or so), which meant I got to sit outside and get some reading done (hooray!). However, it also meant that I wouldn’t be able to cuddle with her during quiet time in class any longer. This was oddly sad for me. (OK, maybe I’m not the stoic mom I think I am after all.)
But I realize, even being in the toddler class meant more letting-go than it had when my daughter was in the baby class with me. Most babies, of course, love the infant massage and the dances. My toddlers only wanted me around on their terms.
This year, my baby enters the Kindermusik for the Young Child class. I’m so excited for her to learn rhythm and note reading. And she’s eager to finally learn about all the instruments we have lying around our house—she was filling the house with sounds from the recorder just the other day. Still, no longer will sharing time be about pretending to be cars going through the car wash. Instead, we’ll do a Mexican hat dance or some rhythm games together. Kindermusik, ever mindful of where most kids are in their development, has structured this curriculum to be exactly right for her stage. Still, even as we enter one exciting stage, we leave another one behind.
I don’t think I’m sharing any perspective that is particularly unique in its profundity. But I also see this process stretching ahead with my oldest daughter who will be entering seventh grade this year. This will be her third year in her particular middle school, so we don’t have that particular jump the way many seventh graders do into middle school. However, she is very much becoming a teenager, choosing solitude at home over spending the day with her grandma.
One day, if I’ve done my job, my kids will leave home. . . Yeah, I can’t even bear to think about that stage on a morning like today. Let me just focus on getting through Kindergarten.
I think this process of letting go applies to my own life. I mean, not just that I’m doing the letting go of my own kids. Rather, as an adult, I sometimes have to abandon certain cultural messages that I have previously held onto—ideas about how I to live “happily.” I saw this video the other day and the tune (and of course, the message) still rings in my head:
Melody Beattie, author, said, ““Letting go doesn’t mean we don’t care. Letting go doesn’t mean we shut down. Letting go means we stop trying to force outcomes and make people behave. It means we give up resistance to the way things are, for the moment. It means we stop trying to do the impossible–controlling that which we cannot–and instead, focus on what is possible–which usually means taking care of ourselves. And we do this in gentleness, kindness, and love, as much as possible.”
May you find gentleness, kindness, and love today as you let go.
[By the way, I couldn’t access that Colbie Caillat YouTube video with my safe search filter on. However, I’m a little dumbfounded that it is flagged as being possibly inappropriate, as you can find it on the Disney channel music videos. If you prefer, you can access that particular link here. Unfortunately, WordPress seemingly wouldn’t let me embed it from Disney.]
It never fails. The more I learn about educational theory, the more amazed I am by the Kindermusik approach to early childhood education.
As I’m getting ready to return to a school classroom to teach Spanish (my job before being a mom and Kindermusik educator), I attended a conference for teachers of world languages last week in Denver. One of the big trends in foreign language education is Comprehensible Input, or the idea that we acquire and are able to use a new language when we understand what we hear. Of course, we have to grow, so we learn new, small chunks at a time, with lots of repetition of those chunks—it’s what Dr. Stephen Krashen calls a “plus one” component. We stick with what we can understand, and push ourselves a little bit. Over time, this brings fluency.
Kindermusik understands that a parent or guardian is the child’s best teacher, and Kindermusik educators are here to facilitate that interaction and learning. Instinctively, these caregivers are a child’s best language teacher. We simplify our vocabulary when referring to “mama,” “daddy” or “juice,” and we go from, “Juice?” to “More juice?” to “Want more juice?” in such a natural way that language educators look to them for guidance in teaching a second language.
You’ll see this mirrored in Kindermuik class, and not just in the Signing Time where kids are learning yet another new language. Specific words get repeated in songs and chants (rhythm makes everything better), and we repeat things from week to week, with little tweaks to the activity that make it grow from, for example, a seated game to a full dance.
In a Kindermusik class, our educators will model how to scaffold music-making with your child. We base this principal Vygotsky’s theories of child development. As Lynne Cameron notes in Teaching Languages to Young Learners, “(Other people) play important roles in helping children to learn, bringing objects and ideas to their attention, talking while playing and about playing, reading stories, asking questions. In a whole range of ways, adults mediate the world for children and make it accessible to them. . . . With the help of adults, children can do and understand much more than they can on their own.” (pg. 5)
In Kindermusik class, you’ll see this when you watch an adult and child tap rhythm sticks together. You’ll notice that it works best when a caregiver keeps his or her sticks still and allows the child to tap those. You’ll also see scaffolding when you watch a dance in one of the baby classes—as a little one gets twirled in the air, she gets movement through space in ways she wouldn’t be able to on her own (obviously!). Or, with the bigger kids, kids will learn the glockenspiel note by note, with lots of guidance and instruction from Ms. Carol.
In fact, this principal is so important, Vygotsky held that we measure intelligence not by what a child can or cannot do alone, but what they do with guidance. Personally, I believe the kids in our studio are extremely brilliant, but I’m probably a little biased.
Not many more weeks until Kindermusik starts back up again in the fall! Hope you’ve had a great time at a Song of the Heart Summer Camp, and we’ll see you soon. . .
