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Dear Parents, Surgeon General Viveck Murthy warned parents of the dangers of social media on children & youth. And if you think I have a zillion things to say about this, you are right! Here's the most important take-away from the report: we do not have enough information to really understand the impact of social media on the developing brain and nervous system. We do know that children & youth are increasingly struggling with mental health and social emotional well being, and that their participation in social media has skyrocketed. Something is happening with our young people, but we don't exactly know what- research shows both positive and negative impacts of social media on our children and youth. The recommendation to be cautious with social media is grounded in this not knowing. My opinion? Limit screens for littles. Be very involved with bigs on screens. Use parental controls. Be curious about your child's experience. Be clear about your values. Be open to learning new & more things & to changing recommendations. My Top Screen Time & Social Media Tips Want more help with screens? The best place for support is inside my course. Book a consult to learn more & sign up. Follow Along on TikTok & Instagram and YouTube!

MooMoo, my four year old, grasped my hand and asked for helping turning the water on to wash her hands the moment we walked into preschool. We stood at the outside sink, and I knew today was different. As she rinsed the bubbles off of her fingers, she said in a small voice “mama please stay for a long time with me.” We sat at a tracing table and she traced her name over and over and over, seemingly working out some of her worry on the strip of paper. I kissed her and told her I’d be back so soon- and her little eyes filled with big tears. As she we sat on the steps and her teacher brought a book to read to her, I took a stab at what was wrong, “Are you missing Miss Holly and Bippa right now, sweet pea?” And she burrowed her face into my neck, wailing “I love Miss Holly and I love Bippa and I want a playdate with only us at school to find sparkly jewels.” My own eyes filled as I whispered back “Miss Holly was the best, wasn’t she? And that Bippa- you two are the best of friends. Those jewels were so special.” “I want my old school,” she tearfully whined back. “I know, sweet pea. That old school was just the best. I miss it too. You learned so much at your old school. Today we’re at new school. I think Teacher J has a book for you- let’s see what she brought.” Teacher J sat with us, opening a book. I kissed my little MooMoo again and waved goodbye. You see, we moved six weeks ago. We took this little one out of the only school she’s known- a magical, warm environment where she attended with her bestie Bippa. We moved from our tiny house on the side of a mountain to a big house with a circle that MooMoo loves to ride her bike in and a patch of fruit trees that she can snack from. She is happier. And yet- there is still grief. It was my older children I was more concerned about as we finalized our move. A week before we packed our U-Haul and moved in, we drove our family to this new house. As we told them we were moving, my six year olds began to wail. Big, loud, gut wrenching tears came out of them. I looked at my husband, terrified maybe we made the wrong move. “Un minuto, y vemos,” he murmured. It took three minutes before they wiped their tears and began asking if there was somewhere to ride bikes at the new house. The grief moved right through them, wildly, with fervor. And then it was over. My four year old was more stoic. The six year olds announced to their friends they would be moving in six days, then five, then four and three and two and tomorrow. They easily made new friends, enveloped by a teacher with deep social emotional awareness and a warm demeanor. It’s been trickier for my four year old. She, too, moved into a warm and accepting space and quickly made new buddies. And yet, her grief has been slower- perhaps, I have wondered, because her attachment to her preschool community was so deep and so healthy. Today, after our upset at preschool about missing our old preschool, we brought out the Goodbye Book that her class made her. Initially, she carried this book everywhere with her- for at least ten days. It was comforting to her- an object that tied her to her beloved community, a tangible way to process her loss and transition. My older daughters each had one as well, but it wasn’t as critical in soothing their transition. But grief isn’t linear and MooMoo’s popped up again today. Together, we looked at each page, and read the notes from her friends. We took out the craft supplies, and began writing and creating and crafting for her old friends at her old preschool. As she told me what to write, her little heart in all it’s fullness and grief shown through, especially when she dictated things like “I love you my friends… I can’t see you but I love you so much… We were moving. I like to play with you all, see you next time.” and “I wish I had a playdate with you. I can’t because we moved. I don’t come to school anymore because we moved. Bye” As she placed jewels on each creation and we prepared her envelope to mail these beautiful offerings to her old teacher and friends, things felt full. She’s allowed to have these feels. It is tricky but heartfelt to support her in them. I know she is moving through- she has a few new friends she adores (though let’s be honest, her pal Bippa is fairly unparalleled) and she enjoys her new school and teacher. And all things can be true- she can long for her old set up and the familiar comfort it offered as much as she appreciates her new school and community. When we consider moving children and the grief that comes with closing chapters and moving on to the next one, some thing I have kept in mind for my four year old Moo Moo especially but also my younger two: —grief takes time, and most children know what to do with theirs. For many, it is big and wild but not very caught up in any previous challenges or traumas, and so it moves quickly. —grief is unpredictable, and it might pop up in slight or momentary ways when it doesn’t seem logical. It is OK to tend to what arises, even if it seems illogical (like- she’s been to this preschool happily for weeks!). —transitional objects can be so powerful: a special thing, book, story, or even rock from an old place might be a source of great comfort for a child who is moving. —priming is key: prime your child forward. Set them up for success with positive, hopeful narratives and lots of conversation about how things will go down. Often, breaking things down into very small pieces is critical. —storytelling is a balm: support your child to storytell about their experiences. Offer materials to do so- whether it’s cards and stickers to tell stories to their new friends and a grownup who can write out their words, or a song or dance that portrays their experience- having a way to actualize their experiences and having others witness them is what helps grief move- and helps children feel seen and hopeful and valued. We need stories. So do our children. —some ways to help children who are missing their old schools: write letters to old friends. set up video chats. invite visits. read stories about moving. reinforce new friends with playdates. lean into feelings by offering SIMPLE language.

In her book Connections Over Compliance Lori Desautels (2021) writes of draining off a child’s stress with adult calm. While there is lots of rich knowledge about kids, brains, and regulation in this book, the metaphor that meant the most to me was the visual of draining the stress stayed with me. I imagined the grown up, literally a sieve through which the child’s stress filters and drains, gone. This afternoon just me and my four year old were home and I thought we could do some “co-work.” I set her up on a big purple pillow in my office with a mini desk, a pencil-pouch full of crayons, and a sketchbook. I lit a candle and put on some soft piano music and then I sat at my own desk across from her. I opened emails and worked on a programmatic flow chart. It did last a while- maybe 15 minutes or so. Then she started getting whiny. She wanted to pretend she was my puppy, and for a minute it worked for her to lie under my desk panting while I wiggled my toes near her tummy. Then she needed a snack, STAT. We walked downstairs to the kitchen together and then back upstairs to my office and got her settled with sliced cucumber + hummus and a water bottle with crushed ice (ice cubes not acceptable). That lasted 10-12 minutes, while I worked through the first few steps of my flow chart. Then the whining began, again and I cursed myself for not sending this gorgeous child with the stick-straight black hair and big, soulful eyes with my husband, who had whisked her older sisters off to gymnastics, an ostensibly boring activity for a child not in the class. I’d given her a set of silver and gold tiny animal figurines to play with in the storage off of my office, which she and her sisters had taken hostage as a secondary playroom and moved pillows, couches, and scarves into (even though the space really is a storage). From inside the storage room she piped up “I don’t know to do this, mama. I don’t know to play with these. They’s not dogs. They’s zebras and dogs don’t go to the zoo. I’m a dog, mama. I can’t walk, mama. I scrape my leg and I can’t walk. I’m a doggy and I can’t walk, mama. Carry me to the couch….” I shut my laptop. I reached into the Old Navy bag I’d brought home after returning a couple of things this morning. At the check-out, the on-sale make-up brushes had caught my eye, no doubt because I’d been listening to Desautels’ Connections Over Compliance while I drove. She describes an activity with preschoolers in which she uses make-up brushes to disrupt the beginnings of edgy dysregulation (kids fighting over game pieces, kids expressing inflexibility & boredom). Relying on the light, soft touch to activate kids’ nervous systems and support their sensory integration, the make-up brushes in her story were used as tools for connection. When the teacher noticed small moments of dysregulation, she pulled kids from the group and offered instead, a 1:1 sensory experience that highlighted sensory needs, but just as important, highlighted connection. Holding this story close, I asked my sweet and whiny girl if she’d like to try something new with mama. I pulled out the make-up brushes and we took off the plastic. Just the day prior, I’d found her with a facefull of my makeup, and even without the color she was curious about the textures, shapes and sizes of the brushes. In moments, we were playing. “I’m going to paint your eyes!” she squealed in glee. “Circles on your tummy with the fat brush,” I responded. We took turns painting our toes, our faces, our backs and our limbs. Importantly, it was play. Yes, I could leap into making sense of our make-up brush play with bilateral touch, brain based connection and processing, stimulating and calming sensory needs, but what would that serve, except for divorcing me from the sensory experience I was having with the brushes and this child? Our shared experience of play was absolutely the most important thing in turning our afternoon together around. That is what I want to highlight for you: through our humor and playfulness, we resolved her whininess and feelings of not know what to do with her time. We relied on sensory tools- the make up brushes- but the main ingredient of the healing and resetting that we both experienced was not the make-up brushes, it was the play. Yes, the play was sensory-oriented and evoked brain and body connections, and that mattered. But all of that sensory integration and brain/body connection was contained within the context of our play. It is impossible to support our littlest ones without play. I think the reason the image of myself as a sieve for draining off my daughters’ stress resonated so, was that it made me think of me and my body as the instrument, as opposed to the make-up brushes or fidgets or items in a calm-down corner. Yes, there are objects- like in this case, make up brushes (and in other cases, these items might be calm-down corners, fidget spinners, glitter jar timers, or other calming objects) but the truth is- it is not the object that supports the child. It is the engagement in relationship between adult and child that matters, and sometimes objects like make up brushes, blankets, heating pads, and stuffies can enhance that relationship. However, at the end of the day, it is the relationship with the adult that supports regulation. For my little girl, it was not the make-up brushes that supported her regulation. The make-up brushes were a tool. What helped her to come back into her body, get back to normal tone of voice over whining, and ultimately, to resume independent play? It was our shared play with the make-up brushes. She got lots of sensory input as I brushed them over her face, arms, and legs. She got pressure as I moved us from just make-up-brush-play to more high-pressure sensory play. And she got the high quality giggles and love from me, as we pretended we were puppies and brushed the brushes over our faces. Did I finish that programmatic schema? No. I did make some good progress, and when her sisters got home from gymnastics I elected to let them all indulge in screens so I could finish what emails I could. But at the end of the day- what I signed up for in life was these girls. So I’ll be over here, using my whole body to drain off stress from my kids. That might look like curling my body around theirs for postural support during a high tension magna-tile build, or it might look like breaking out the cheap makeup brushes when a sister gets edgy about sharing. Any which way it looks, it will involve dropping my other commitments to show up in an embodied way for my kids. Sometimes I won’t be able to do it, and I’ll need to take care of myself, instead. I’ll need to take my own bath or use the make-up brushes on my own self. That will be OK too- in fact, that is the most important thing I can give to my children…. My own self care and soothing. But when I can be their sieve, it will involve quite literally, using my body to support them to los the extra stress and show up exactly as they are- beautiful, confident, independent little souls in whom I delight. And yet- all children have this core, and it’s our job as the grownups to be the sieve, to shine them up, to see their glimmer even when it’s cloudy and hard- and to move with them towards a clearing, knowing and holding always that glimmer, that hope, that beauty.

📷Before I had children, I imagined our Sunday mornings would be like this: sunshine streaming through the windows, we’d be flipping pancakes and the children would be giggling and sipping fresh-squeezed OJ and there would be lots of singing. I guess I thought parenting would just be an extended musical. Laugh with me though, because my Sundays now look like this: regularly burning pancakes which I flip with a butter knife because my children inform me the spatula is “hiding” in the sandbox; intermittently pulling squabbling children off of each other so that they don’t really hurt each other; cold coffee and no singing. My life’s not a musical… but maybe I should start doing more singing. Because here’s the thing: there’s neurological evidence that melodic intonation- using super inflected, sing-song voices for everything- actually activates a different part of the brain. Not only does it support children’s comprehension- especially those with delays- it calms the adult involved, making co-regulation easier. We are all family systems, right? So it’s important to have tools and tips that can help the child- but that also help the parent. That is exactly what melodic intonation does. It’s near impossible to feel angry/frustrated/annoyed when you’re singing. I’ll just point out that many-a-children’s show has already figured this out. The ever famous Daniel Tiger (yes, I let my children watch Daniel Tiger while I do their hair and sometimes in the car) sings through everything. His jangle for anger is: “When you’re so mad that you want to roar, take a deep breath and count to four…” It may be a show for children, but they’re on to something. Daniel Tiger knows how things can be so insanely maddening for children (and parents) and also, that its not possible to have harshness in your heart when you’re singing “When you’re so mad that you want to roar, take a deep breath and count to four…” If nothing else, recognizing you need this silly song is funny (because who would have thought parenting was so hard that you need to take advice from a cartoon tiger?). You see the point? Melodic intonation- be it a song or a chant (if your kid is older) or even just a phrase said the same way every time can save the day. Daniel Tiger models this as well: throughout the show, he sings the same short little jangle again and again and again, until he- and everyone watching- remembers it and can make use of it. So if as little orange tiger can do it, surely you can too! ​ Next time I’m burning pancakes and failing to have a Sunday morning that looks like a musical, I’ll be singing my way back. Won’t you join me?

This afternoon, I watched my five year old niece swing her two braided pigtails behind her and furrow her eyebrows so that they nearly touched, after a child grabbed a block from her stack. And then another kid knocked over a fence she had been building around two plastic cows. And then a cousin playing a poking game with a younger child poked her in the side, and she turned and swung at him, nearly leaving a black eye in her wake. She got in trouble- for she had hit another child. She was yanked from the play-area and made to sit in a white plastic chair, alone, until she could calm down and agree to play nicely. She was angry. But here’s the thing: she really was angry about the block that was grabbed from her (and also frustrated because she wanted to play) and she really was angry about the fence that was knocked (and also, crushed that her cousin didn’t see her magnificent building efforts) and the uncalled for poking (and also, annoyed to be distracted from her play). The adults around her knew none of this, but they were exasperated because they wanted to catch up with each other, not mediate childhood squabbles. And so, they removed her (less she hurt another child) and stuck her in a chair to think (because you can’t hit, and that’s not the way we act in this family, and think about it until you’re ready to come back and be kind). The question emerges, did this little girl learn anything from her time out? What if what she learned was that her anger- and all the feelings underneath- were invisible to the adults who love her the most? What if what she learned, was that it didn’t matter that other children knocked over her creations, and that it was OK for older children to poke her because they were poking other children? Those are not lessons I want my niece or any child I love to learn. And yet- I participated in this- I was one of the adults who wanted to have bread and coffee while the children played over yonder. What if, instead of letting our desire to be with the grown-ups and our short-fuses for kids who hit other kids get the best of us, we connected with our kids? What if instead, we kneeled down, slowed down and tried to understand what was happening for the child who just struck another? What if we approached the situation with empathy, instead of exasperation? Here’s the thing about anger: there is almost always another emotion (or more than one) underneath anger. And when we approach a situation with empathy, what we feel are the feelings underneath the anger. What do I mean? Let me give you some examples: For my niece, under her anger about the knocked over fence was frustration that she couldn’t play as she wished, underneath her anger about being put into time-out was perhaps sadness or a feeling of her experiences being invisible to her caregivers. For you, imagine you didn’t get a promotion you really deserved, and you were angry. But what was underneath that anger? Maybe some embarrassment that you didn’t get the job, maybe some fear that you wouldn’t be able to make it professionally, maybe some disappointment in yourself. For you, maybe you’re a mom. Maybe your child was dawdling in the slowest way only children can dawdle, while you hurried them along because you really wanted to get them to the playdate because you really needed to talk to another grownup about life. And maybe their incredibly slow way of getting their shoes on was making you mad, and maybe you snapped a little. Underneath your mad was a need to be heard, a feeling of losing yourself to dawdles. See how underneath the mad, there’s something really tender? Think back to the last time your were angry: what else was there? If you really looked, what might you find? With that perspective, let’s return to this situation in which my niece has just slugged another child. She did hurt the other child. And yet, she’s only five, and we grown-ups were very engrossed in grown-up things in the time leading up to the slugging. Perhaps this child could have used some help when the other kid grabbed her block, or knocked over her fence. Perhaps she could have used some empathy instead of a scolding. So what would that have looked like? It would have required an adult to sit down in her space, and attend to what was going on for her. We might have asked her “Hey, what are you building? Where do these little animals go? Who is helping? Who is playing something else? How are you feeling? What do you need- do you need helping building the fence again? Do you need more blocks or a little space to work in?” These are all empathic questions- questions that are centered to her experience. They necessarily understand her hitting as an expression of her frustration- and they assume that she was just trying to be a good, playful child. They assume that something went wrong, and that that something caused the behavior. And, they hold open space for the fact that the something that went wrong was, perhaps, that the parents involved were talking to each other instead of attending to their children or being present in their children’s space. And maybe, the something that went wrong was the fact that the parents’ need time for self-care, too, because we live in a world that affords very little of that. And, these questions hold space for this little girls’ experience without pointing fingers at her, her playmates or even her parents. These questions assume that underneath the anger that was expressed through hitting, there is something else happening, and they assume that that something else is actually very important and that, if we can tend to it, maybe next time, we can do something else, instead of hitting. So what if your child looks at you like you have three heads when you ask empathic questions after they express anger (whether they express anger via behavior like hitting or by telling you they’re pissed off)? It’s a good question, and one you might need to deal with if you haven’t approached situations like this in the past. It’s OK to offer yourself some empathy here, and let the kids know you’re trying something new, because the old way (time outs, grounding, whatever it was) seemed like it was hurting more than helping. Because in the end, what we want the children to be able to do is manage their anger in ways that don’t hurt others, and we want them to be able to try new ways when things don’t work out. And if we’re going to ask that of our kids, you know who has to do it first? Yep. You. Model that kind of vulnerability, enact that kind of empathy, and we’ll all be better for it.

Let's be real- sometimes the hardest part of parenting is your co-parent. When you're working with the Positive Parenthood approach, it can be challenging to have one parent totally on board with a positive, gentle approach when the other just isn't. And many of you have been asking....in this situation, what do I do? If this is your experience, we encourage you to sign up for our free online workshop Parenting Together with Dr. Robin Hauge and Dr. Chelsey Hauge on Friday, January 17th at 8pm PST. We'll be sharing some resources for slowly bringing your partner on board and discussing the best tools to experiment with. There will be a replay available through the weekend for those of you who can't make it, but it's so much better to be able to be there and ask questions and participate int he conversation. You can sign up here (limited seats so we can do Q&A)- and for now, read on! First of all, we acknowledge how hard it can be to use a relationship based approach without your partner's support, and that a completely different approach may undermine your efforts or confuse your children. For many parents who face big challenges or are raising really tricky, defiant, or creatively challenging children, it can be hard to believe that being more gentle and positive and kind is going to actually get children to cooperate. Often, we have very skeptical parents who have come through our courses move towards relationship based parenting, and we work with them until they come to understand and more than understand, feel how this approach works. Most of them use intuitively by the end of our work together, often because they're able to connect with a deeper part of themselves. We've put together this list of tips and tricks for working with someone wherever they are in their parenting journey, and supporting them to make even the smallest shifts towards a relationship-based approach. 1. Meet them wherever they are. It can be challenging to meet your partner where they are, especially if you want them to be parenting your child in a different way. Try to empathize with where they are coming from, and know that people can only make shifts when they are truly ready to make the shift. In our work with parents, we often highlight the importance of joining a child in their activity and feelings if they are upset, and before requesting an action or moving through a transition. 2. Praise & notice small shifts. The very first parenting tool we teach is praise. Praise works wonders to guide children towards cooperation, but it also works for grown-ups. Let's be honest- we are all human beings and all of us need a little extra love. We need to be noticed. We need our spouses to witness what we are doing, and it's meaningful to know that someone else knows and is witnessing us. At times, parents tell us that their child has such a hard time that they have nothing to praise, and we typically counter with "praise the shards." Shards are the itty bitty moments that are going well: the one second of waiting before the child melts down or a single step towards the shoe basket after being asked to get ready to go. Likewise, when you catch your co-parent doing something sweet, praise that thing! We are trying to build towards more of the things that are already working well. And if you must, find the shards. However I caution you, you must be authentic, or this will backfire gigantically. Be real. Be sweet. Be kind. Be authentic. 3. Agree to experiment with a single tool for a determined period of time. Keep your own mind open- this may be a tool that works and you may need to try something different. Decide to apply the tool to a behavior, routine, or moment that is just a wee bit challenging (as in, pick getting ready to go to the park which is sometimes slightly chaotic and could go better instead of something during your kids' witching hour. When you're selecting what you'd like to go better, stay away from hot button issues- for your child and for the parents. During our free workshop Parenting Together, we will discuss our top pick for the first tool to experiment with- Positive Opposites. Most skeptics like a good, research based, easy to to implement tool that yields success pretty fast- Positive Opposites checks all those boxes. But whatever you pick, remember to be playful with it and keep things light. Want to join us for that workshop on January 17, 2020? Sign up here to save your spot! 4. Sit down and define family values. Just like we might sit down and write out annual or quarterly goals at work, it's good to get clear on what you as a family believe, how you want your children to grow up, and what the related parenting techniques you want to employ are. We like to do this by brainstorming, with the question "What is the most important thing we want to nurture in our children?" written on a poster. Then we turn on some good music and each of us takes a couple of minutes to answer the question on post-its. We put one answer per post it, and stick it on the poster. When you're done, organize the post-its and try to synthesize. Do you agree? How can you mesh the things that are most important to you together? Once you've done this, see if you can come up with a statement about your parenting values, or a list of values, that feels representative and true to you both. As you shift things in your parenting, come back to this statement or list- we'd encourage you to put it on your fridge! 5. It is true that there are many ways to parent. This is only one. If a parent is struggling or pushing back on positive, relationship based approaches, it might be time to inquire whether what the parent is already doing is working for them. If it is working, there's really no reason to make a shift. For example, for a long time it worked for my children to all sleep in my bed. But as they grew, they started waking me a lot and my 2.5 year old started sleeping on my belly and waking up to trace tiny circles with her finger on my skin. It had worked for a long time, but now I wasn't getting enough sleep- it was time for a change. When I asked myself the question "is it working?" the answer was no. Typically, when skeptical parents argue that this approach is too hard, too much, or not going to work.... what we say is... "OK. Is what you're doing working?" Invariably, it is not. And so we quietly wonder together, by joining the parent in their frustration, what we might do differently?

You know what summer camps really got right? Melodic intonation. At summer camp, everyone sings. There are breakfast songs and lunch songs and done with dinner songs and swimming songs and walking somewhere songs and bedtime songs. There are even contests where someone shouts out a random word (like say, "alligator") and groups have to sing a song that has that word in it. What's right about this? The little kids sing. The big kids sing. It's fun. It's silly. It's expected. It helps everyone move from place to place. It's a ritual. There are sing-song songs, and hand motion songs and repeat after me songs and chant songs. Here is a YouTube playlist of some camp songs- in case you need to get inspired. Here's the secret that every camp counselor knows: everything is better with a song, no one cares if you're off-tune, and anything can be made into a song. This carefree, must-sing attitude would do well to sneak into your everday parenting. Sometimes, we grow up and become adults and have kids and forget that somewhere inside of us, there's a kid (or maybe a camp counselor) that loved (or would have loved) camp songs. Parenting seems so serious. But the truth of the matter is, a little levity- and a whole lot of camp songs- could do us an awful lot for supporting our challenging children.  We'd be singing- helping them understand. We'd be staying light and bright ourselves- helping them to co-regulate and stay calm. We'd be entering their worlds, having fun, keeping it light. So I urge you: unearth your inner camp counselor. Let her out to play. Encourage her. Be silly with her. ​Your kids will follow.

We all know how hard it is to stay calm when your child is having a tantrum because soccer practice is over (or in the grocery checkout line, or after school...). Especially when that lady watching you leans in and says "You just need to...." She has no idea what you need to do. She probably has no idea what your child needs, or what it feels like to mother your child as they fall apart in a public place. Here's the deal: no matter what you do, it's not going to work unless YOU are calm. The best methods will fail with parental calm. There are many reasons why, but here are a few based on the research in education and co-regulation:Calm decreases the chance that the parent will escalate.  When you are calm, you are able to stay with the plan- sticking with a plan is crucial. This is especially the case when you are changing your parenting methods. Until Positive Parenthood becomes second nature, it's critical you make a plan and commit to following through even when, and if it's awkward. After all, that's how we learn. But to do that, you've got to stay calm. Calm decreases the chance of a deadlock of wills. When you get into a fixed, deadlock position (as in, there is NO WAY you are going to budge) your child often mirrors your state (see our work on co-regulation). If you're deadlocked, and your kid is deadlocked... it's pretty unlikely either of you has the emotional capacity to shift the dynamic and move into a more regulated state that allows you to move forward. Children benefit from seeing and feeling your calm: this is where co-regulation is so critical. When you are calm in the middle of a conflict, children see that it's possible to have conflict without excessive anger or without giving up in dismay. By watching you, they learn to regulate through a range of emotional states with another person. These are lessons that will serve your child for their entire life- all people need to be able to move through frustration and challenge in positive ways. You are the model for your child, so show them with your own behavior how you want them to respond during challenging times. Calm parents are less exhausted, more energized, positive, and inspired. It's just more enjoyable, and more fun to be a calm parent.  The research is clear: we've got to calm down. It's hard in a world with a million things happening at once and other adults commenting on your parenting, but it's imperative. The kind of calm you're shooting for is a calm that is warm and accepting. It is a calm that invites connection. Sometimes, we get calm and flat, detached and uninvolved, and totally shut down when things are challenging with our children. To be clear- this is not what we want when we think about calm. We want a quality of calm that invites the child to connect, not that blankets everyone in silence and pretends whatever is going awry isn't happening at all. Think about the quality of calm that you like most- the one that makes your belly feel warm and your shoulder muscles relax. That presence- open, grounded, inviting- is what you want to offer to your child all the time, but especially during times of extreme challenge.

It went down like this: one twin was pretty into it and excited until we walked through the door and I made motions to leave; the other twin was never really into it and was similarly even less into it when I made motions to leave. After extracting myself from their grips and dashing out the door, I stood outside and listened to them scream. Other parents offered me pained expressions. I wondered if they'd been here, but also couldn't imagine them ever being here because most of their children walked in, hung their backpacks and waved goodbye. For the record, I'm not sure that's ever going to happen to me. Like, ever. And since I'm all up in the #positiveparenthood tools, I decided I'd think about which tool would help with this ugly transition. Or, real talk: I called my mother, Robin Hauge, and shared this story of enormous tears at preschool drop off, and then she positive-parenthood schooled me. She said, "Chelsey you need to prime this for them: Today was tricky at drop off, but Thursday is going to be easier when you get to school. Thursday, we will get to school and I will give you a kiss and you will wave bye bye, and it will be fun!" Trust me I was rolling my eyes. Mostly because I wanted her to understand that my twins cried more than ALL of the other children, and #whatamigoingtodo. But I knew she was right. And I've been doing it. Priming is telling the child what is going to happen, before it happens. It's laying the train track long before the train has left the station. It's thinking about- and articulating- how we want our children to imagine a situation before it occurs. Why is imagination important? Think about it: when you've got something big coming up, you likely think abut it first. Maybe you practice the presentation. Maybe you run it through your head. Maybe you imagine it to be a smashing success. Being able to imagine a positive, hopeful, forward moving outcome to a new situation is the stuff of resilience and grit. Priming is your opportunity to help your child establish the pathways in their brain that allow them to do this for themselves. So I'll just be over here, talking to my littles about how we will kiss and high five at preschool drop off, and how it is going to be so, so fun and so, so easy. It might not be perfect tomorrow, less you get discouraged! But I will keep trying. I know it will be a little better tomorrow. And even a little more better the next time.

I said nothing but YES to my children for 24 hours. Though others warned me this would spoil them and cautioned me they’d want to go straight to Target to pick out all the biggest toys, this wasn’t what happened at all. In fact, we had zero meltdowns, no whining episodes, and zero sibling squabbles despite the fact that we did donuts, zoo, beach, pizza, ice cream, Target, and bonfire all in one day. Here’s what went down: we prepared for YES DAY. They knew it was coming, and I cleared my schedule. We brainstormed about what they’d like to do on YES DAY. The night before, we made a list of desired activities. I put the list on a clipboard, which made it very official. One child propped it by the door so we wouldn’t forget it in the morning. They woke early, excited to have their YES DAY. We had breakfast and then washed the windows (it was on the list!). Everyone got to spray the windex and use the squeegee. We packed swimsuits for the beach even though it was cold and foggy, and I didn’t ask why or protest, I simply said YES. We stopped for donuts and sat at the bar to eat them. We built sand castles and played in the foggy surf. When it got too cold, we went out to lunch. They ordered cheese pizza and double scoops of gelato. Then we headed to the zoo. We called Papá on our way home and asked him to make tacos, the dinner they easily agreed upon even though we typically struggle to agree on who gets to get into the car first in the morning, let alone menu options. They did want to go to Target, and I did put some boundaries around what they could get. They specifically asked to get something not from the dollar bins, and so we agreed that each child could get something smaller than her arm. It worked! Everyone happily picked out toys under $20, and one child accepted the reminder from her sister that a gigantic remote control car was not smaller than her arm. This was actually significant because we went to Target late- like dinnertime, and the children were entirely agreeable and cheerful. After dinner, hubby and I scrounged for cardboard to build a bonfire because all the wood was wet, and we roasted marshmallows. And then everyone (me included) fell into bed exhausted. No meltdowns happened all day long. No major cases of the whines. No big blow-ups on my part or the children’s part. I recognize that our very full day was so easy because I was so focused on the girls. I climbed into their world and let them guide me with their perspective. When they were dying to stop and watch some construction people laying a wood floor on the way to the ice cream shop, we sat on the sidewalk and talked to the workers. When they asked for rainbow sprinkle donuts but then decided they wanted red and green sprinkles only after they’d been served, the donut waitress person happily obliged the request. When they wanted to park on the bottom parking lot of the zoo, I agreed and we started with the petting zoo. When they thought it would be fun to sing twinkle-twinkle to the otters, I sang at the top of my lungs. Everything we did was focused on their needs, hearts, bodies, and souls. I was truly present, aside from trying to photograph the entire thing because it was so special. I made time, I said yes, and when things got a little wonky like once when they wanted to run through a parking lot, I sat us all down on a curb and we made up a chant about how we were going to walk together. When they were ready, we stood up, chanted together, and walked across the parking lot hand in hand. I’m not suggesting that we only ever say yes to our children. Of course it is not possible to always say yes. But saying yes for 24 hours made me realize over and over and over again, how often I say no. How often I pull their little hands past construction people building floors, how often I tell them they cannot change their mind after they’ve picked a donut or flavor or activity, how often I make up reasons we cannot park in the lower zoo parking lot simply because I prefer the upper one. Saying yes for 24 hours gave me the opportunity to share with my children how much I care about them through action. It allowed me communicate clearly, that they are the most important thing. We often say that they highest form of praise is presence, and that the most effective parenting tool is praise. I learned an awful lot during YES DAY, especially that I love to be able to give all my presence and praise to my daughters. I learned that I need to carve out time and space for YES DAY- time when I expect to only be with my children, following their wonder and curiosity. My life can get so hectic with work and meal planning and my larger than life laundry pile that never goes away. When things start to get hairy, my heart begins to feel dull and uninspired. The answer for me is always connection, and on YES DAY, I found that connection with my girls. I think when their behavior starts to get hairy, the answer is also to be found in YES DAY. For tricky behavior almost always stems from stress, and for most of our children, the antidote to stress is positive, sweet, kind acknowledgement from the people they love. I try to give my childen a taste of yes day every day, but it’s not always possible. Sometimes I’m too stressed, or the requests are too outlandish, or there are just too many things to do. But from here on out, yes day is going to be a monthly institution in our family. It’s the kind of parent I want to be- utterly willing and completely excited to say yes all day long, and climb in gratefully and wholeheartedly into their world as often as possible. Thank you dear children, for leading me on yes day!

This is our response for a very sleepless mama, who writes... My almost-2 year old used to sleep through the night. For over a year now, she's slept soundly in her own bed in her own room. We sleep trained her around 10 months, and she did great. She cried a bit but got over it, fast. She snored. She was happy to have her bottom patted, her sleep noise machine turned on, and her mama to quietly say, "sweet dreams!" And that would be it until 7:45am. Until last week, when she decided to never sleep again. When I put her into bed, she screams. I am not exaggerating- it really is screaming. She wraps her arms around my neck and refuses to lay down in her crib. It is severe enough that I actually made a doctor appointment, because I thought maybe she was in pain, like with appendicitis or something. I don't know why she's crying so much. She used to be so easy to put to bed, and I don't know what to do. The pediatrician told me to stick to the routine, and let her cry. She said it's normal, and it'd only be a few more days. I am trying that- but its not working. Like she is crying- screaming- for hours on end. Her crying makes me cry. Last night, she cried for nearly three hours. Then I gave up completely and went into her room, got her out of the crib, and brought her to bed with me. I don't even know if this was the right thing to do. I need help, except I already went to my pediatrician for advice and it just isn't working. I feel like I'm going crazy. I am just at a total loss, and I am so, so tired. Please help. First of all.... I see why you're struggling. Did you know sleep deprivation is a torture tactic? Many mamas in your situation are just utterly exhausted, and need help figuring out how to get everyone to sleep more, mamas included! I want to stress that whatever you do, you and your partner need to be a united front. That means making a plan and sticking to it, whatever it takes. If you decide to go with your pediatrician and sleep train your little one again, then you do need to follow the advice to create- and stick to- a routine. If that routine involves your little one going to bed and you patting them, turning on the noise machine, and wishing them "sweet dreams," that is OK. But you have to stick to it. The reason you have to stick to it is that when you allow your little one to scream for two hours and then go and get her and allow her to sleep in your bed.... you have unfortunately reinforced her upset. So what she learned.... was that, by crying for a really long time, she can get what she wants- to sleep in mama's arms. What is working against your little one's consistent sleep pattern is in fact, adult inconsistency. So- your pediatrician has identified one way to think about this issue, and I've outlined what you need to do to make this approach effective. However, I'd encourage you to think about this from another angle. I'd encourage you to think about this in terms of your daughter's needs: what might she be needing right now, that she isn't getting at bedtime? Given her age- approaching two years- she is very likely becoming more aware of her environment. It's very common that as she becomes more aware, she may develop new anxieties about the world, herself, and her experience in the world. At this age, many children need their sleep routines to shift- often, naps become a thing of the past just before or around the second birthday. Sometimes, its not hours of sleep that need to change around this birthday- it can also be patterns ​of sleep. So, given where she is developmentally, and given her upset around bedtime, it seems plausible that what she is needing- and really, demanding- is comfort. It is OK, and good, and developmentally appropriate, for you to offer her that comfort. She may be afraid of the dark, or afraid of being alone, or afraid of you being in another room, or afraid of the unknown sleep brings. Can you lay with her as she goes to sleep? Many parents sneak out of their children's bedroom after their breathing becomes long, deep, and even- evidencing sleep. That is OK, and it may mean laying with her, or sitting next to her bed, or delaying your own evening routine a bit. It is all developmentally appropriate, and it is also the case that it demands a lot of the parent. So often, we are asked as parents to deny our children comfort, or to ignore our own instincts. Your instinct was good, mama- you went and got your crying child. You are hard-wired to go and get her. Now, we just want to hone that impulse and refine it a bit so that it is attuned to what your child needs. First and foremost, that refining requires that you and anyone parenting with you decide what you are willing to do. You and your partner must be a united front: Will you lay with her? Allow her to sleep with you? Do you need her to cry it out, so that you can sleep alone, in your bed? Get clear on this, first. Your needs and approach will shape her experience- and it will negatively shape her experience if you are unclear, inconsistent, or if there is discord between parenting partners (this includes and grandparents, nannies, aunt/uncles/brothers/sisters/others who may put a child to bed). So take some time to talk and to understand what you need, what you want, and what you believe, as a family. Then move forward into the decision making process. Make a plan that works for you and your family. Make a contingency plan for when it feels like its not working. One option is to let her cry it out. That is what the doctor suggested, and in order to make it work, you must be consistent. Another option is to lay with her until she falls asleep, to cuddle her as drifts off. What's hard about this option is that it requires more time and attention from a parent that may be already exhausted. This is why parents must be a united front: is your co-parent too exhausted tonight? You may need to relieve each other. This option may feel better, but may be harder to practice because of the emotional demand on you as the parent, at the end of the day. It will require a commitment to supporting your co-parent (if you have one). Of course, if you're solo-parenting, it may mean you need to really set up more support for yourself. It's not easy, though it may well be the best option for your family. We get it. It's really, really hard. As you venture through this sleep-disruption, we hope you are able to support each other in whatever decision you make, and of course- to always be consistent with your little ones, regardless of what works best for your family.