Light

"When the great night comes, everything takes on a note of deep dejection, and every soul is seized by an inexpressible longing for light." 

Carl Jung

The great night.  Oh, I wish I could be this deep.  Jung was in a jungle in Africa when he thought of this, studying real things.  The jungles, the cultures, and in this particular instance a celebration of the rising sun.  He describes an incredible sunrise and the incredible meaning of it to the people who lived where he was visiting at the time.  He continues, "within the soul from its primordial beginnings there has been a desire for light and an irrepressible urge to rise out of the primal darkness." 

When I need an uplift, I grab a book (any book) and open it to whatever page I happen to open it to and start reading.  It works every time.  And it's wonderful for someone like me who loves instant gratification.  I told someone once that I need a "right here and right now" kind of God, one I don't have to meditate for a hundred years to access (although that probably wouldn't hurt me either).

I need a God who can surface in an instant.  And it's funny, coincidental, or miraculous (however you prefer to look at it), there's been such a message in every book I've ever picked up in this way.  Even books on physics and algebra (eew!).  This morning I picked up Jung's book and read about longing for light.

Now, I'm not studying cultures around the world.  In fact, the thing I'm forced to study seems terribly isolated and idiosyncratic at times.  That "thing" is myself.  And right now I'm up against what is, so far, one of my darkest demons.  Discipline.  Or, I should say, my lack of wanting to provide it.  

In particular, I don't want to discipline Cale.  I wish I could tell you this is because he's autistic so it wouldn't work, or because I have deep seeded issues around discipline and don't feel comfortable disciplining children at all.  Those are the things I like to tell myself, but they're both total crap.  Cale needs discipline just like any other child.  And my deepest seeded issues with discipline are that my strengths have rarely, if ever, included firmness, clearness, and consistency.

I'm not talking about punishment by the way - about swatting Cale's bottom on Thursday for his prolonged tantrum.  I can do that any old time.  It doesn't require the "light" Jung is talking about.  In fact, I don't know that punishment can survive in the "light" Jung is talking about.  I'm talking about discipline.  It's a whole hell of a lot harder than punishing him, especially since he doesn't react normally to life in the first place.  Discipline requires light.

With Cale I've had to break down and think about things that I just do intuitively with Alden and Isabel.  This is going to sound so rudimentary but I need to process through it.  You, however, are welcome to skip to the bottom of the post if you'd like because this is going to sound like a text book for the next few paragraphs.  It's the good old ABC's of a behavior - Antecedent (what precedes the behavior), Behavior (the behavior itself), and the Consequence (what happens right after the behavior).  This stuff isn't new or profound and is probably in every parenting handbook on the planet, but the ABC's can be very useful for me to remember when I need to simplify things again after my mind has complicated them.

The first thing I have to do when I see a behavior is to figure out the function of that behavior.  This can be tricky and it requires my undivided presence.  What is really going on here?  Why is the child behaving this way?  What is it they're trying to get, avoid, or accomplish with this behavior?

The function of a behavior isn't always as it first appears.  Children don't necessarily think the same way we adults do.  And Cale doesn't even think the same way other children do.  An example - Cale and I were at Walgreen's.  I looked down and saw him slowly pulling a Kusch ball out of a box full of Kusch balls that sat on a low toy shelf.  I automatically thought he wanted me to buy it for him (that's what Alden or Isabel would want).  However, I've learned to stop and watch, to pay attention, and to try and think about things from Cale's perspective.

He quickly put the ball back in the box, then slowly took it out again, then quickly back in, then slowly out.  And I realized that what he was enjoying at that moment was putting an item "where it belonged."  It was almost as if it were a bit risky to take it out of "where it belonged" in the first place, a little exciting, and okay as long as he could quickly get it back into "where it belonged."  If I had taken the ball from him (even if he could see I was purchasing it for him) I would've prevented him from putting it back "where it belonged" (which was the function) and I would've seen a massive unwanted behavior.

This unwanted behavior would've continued for as long as the ball was away from "where it belonged" or until he had exhausted himself from screaming and had fallen asleep.  And every time I would've tried to give him that ball to play with, he would've been reminded that the ball was not "where it belonged" and he would've gotten upset all over again.  He didn't want the ball.  He wanted the ball to be "where it belonged."  I was able to catch an unwanted behavior in the Antecedent stage (ie - before it occurred) because I realized that the function of his playing with the ball wasn't what I initially thought it was.  So I didn't try to buy it.  Instead I said, "Okay, time to go bye-bye."  He happily put the Kusch ball back "where it belonged" and walked out the door with me smiling.

When I do actually see an unwanted behavior and once I'm clear about what the function of that unwanted behavior is, then I have to figure out what behavior I want to see instead.  I have to decide on a target behavior (ie - what specific behavior I do want to see).  Often times the target behavior can act as a replacement for the unwanted behavior, but serve the same function.  Not always though.  Sometimes no just means no.

If the function of an unwanted behavior is to get attention, for example, first I as the parent have to decide exactly what I want the target behavior to be.  Do I want the child to seek attention appropriately right then or do I want them to be able to leave me alone for twenty minutes?  Sometimes unwanted behavior looks appropriate.  A child will get your attention in an appropriate manner four hundred and fifty thousand times in one hour.  Maybe this is one of those times he/she will have too sooth/entertain themselves for a little while.  I have to figure out exactly what the problem is and decide exactly what I want to see instead.

I have to get very clear with myself exactly what behavior I want to see and not have any reservations what-so-ever about it.  I can't go changing my mind, my expectation, mid-situation.  It's not fair to my kids.  It can't be a guessing game if it's to be effective.  I have to be consistent.  So I first have to make a firm decision on what target behavior I'm after, then I have to clearly communicate it or teach it to my child, and then I have to insist on it all the way through that particular situation.

If the function of a behavior is to get attention and the target behavior is for them to do it appropriately, then I might tell them I expect calm, grown-up words instead of whining, crying, or misbehaving to get attention.  I tell them as clearly as possible, "You can only get my attention by using your grown-up words (saying "excuse me" instead of interrupting, talking quietly, whatever is appropriate for the child)."  We might have a brief discussion about what that means exactly, but then that's the expectation.

It's most effective at my house to avoid the unwanted behavior from the Antecedent (before unwanted behavior occurs) as often as possible, so I try to pay attention to my kids each and every time single time there's any appropriate seeking.  "What a wonderful job asking so nicely!" etc.

In an ideal world a child would have so much attention already they'd never have to seek it negatively, but alas we don't live in an ideal world.  When the unwanted behavior (whining, crying, or misbehaving) happens, then I have to address it via Consequences.  In a nut shell, I can't let the whining, crying, or misbehaving work to get attention.  I can't allow attention of any kind to be the consequence of the whining, crying, or misbehaving or else the child will learn that whining, crying, and misbehaving are, in fact, very effective ways of getting attention.

I have to completely and totally ignore any whining, crying, or misbehaving because getting attention is the function of the whining, crying, or misbehaving.  If the child is little and still needs to learn the target behavior (if he/she doesn't know it already) then I also have to teach the target behavior (wait until the child is tugging on me and crying into my face, then, "I'm waiting to hear your calm, grown-up words" might be my initial prompt.  Then the prompting is slowly faded out until I'm confident the child knows what to do).

If they know what to do and still won't do it (if it's actually just defiance) then I just don't given them any attention until I see the target behavior (calm, grown up words).  If they start doing something dangerous or start trashing the house then I intervene physically without words or eye contact (as little attention as possible) until they decide to try the target behavior.  Oh, this makes them really mad.  With my kids, there's always an increase in the unwanted behaviors first while they test me to see if I'm really serious.  Then, suddenly it seems, I start seeing the target behavior most of the time.

Here's an example of using the ABC's with Alden and Isabel:  I want Alden and Isabel to sit at the table to eat their food.  With three kids it's too messy, nor is it safe, to allow them to run around and eat food wherever they want.  First, what's the "function" of not sitting at the table?  Sitting at the table isn't particularly fun for them so they want to avoid it.  So the function is avoidance. 

The target behavior is that they sit at the table to eat.  And since the function is avoidance, avoiding it absolutely isn't an option.

Again, it's most effective in our house to avoid an unwanted behavior at the Antecedent rather than wait until after and provide consequences, so we have a meal time routine.  Food is not allowed unless it is "meal time."  Meals are at certain times (roughly) every day and the kids know exactly what's expected of all of us (bottoms on the chair, feet on the floor, etc.) during meals.  We all sit down and eat together and Shane and I are right there to enforce the expectation.

We've had meals where someone has screamed at the table for the duration of dinner time, but because we were clear about our target behavior which was sitting at the table (not being quiet) we didn't let them leave because of their screaming.  If we had then they would've learned that screaming is an effective way to get out of sitting at the table.  Before long, everyone realized how much more pleasant it was to cooperate.  We also have a routine for meal completion - we say we're finished, ask to leave, put waste into the trash and plates into the sink.  This is required of Cale as well.  It works most of the time.  But sometimes unexpected instances do occur and we see unwanted behavior as a result, making an actual consequence unavoidable.

I give Alden and Isabel ice-cream cones and tell them to sit at the table with them.  I'm tired and busy with Cale and can't sit with them.  Moments later I find them running around in the living room with their ice-cream cones.  They've been ignored all evening and I didn't catch the behavior at the Antecedent (didn't foresee what would happen if I didn't sit with them) so now I've seen unwanted behavior and I have to implement a consequence.

But what's the right consequence?  What I've done in the past has been to take it personally and scold them, "I've told you a million times to sit at the table with your food!  Why don't you listen to me?  I've explained to you over and over why you can't run around with food!  What are we going to do to get you to sit down while you eat like a civilized person?!" etc., etc.

It seems to work too, in the moment.  They quickly run to the table with their ice-cream and eat in tears because they feel like bad kids.  And I've become someone I don't want to be.  A bitch.  Scolding them is nothing more than punishment, an emotional spanking.  It works to distinguish the immediate behavior but it doesn't involve any real learning so the effect, I'm afraid, is usually temporary.

So what's the correct response if I really want them to eat at the table?  Oh, it's the one I HATE to do.  I'd rather yell.  I'd seriously rather punish them and then let them have their ice cream at the table.  "They never get treats," my head will tell me, "they have it so tough, no attention, a distracted mother whose spread too thin, the poor things deserve this ice-cream.  Plus, those ice cream cones were $5.00 for a box of six.  Do I really want them wasted?"  This stuff isn't necessarily easy on the mind, but the required action is really very simple.

Usually, although I'm not perfect, I do the right thing.  I quietly and without saying a word take both ice-cream cones and drop them into the garbage can.  Much more effective and I haven't had to yell, scold, question listening skills, or be angry in any way.  I haven't had to be someone I don't want to be.

It's a lot easier for me to like my kids when I can continue to like who I am in relationship to them, so I try to implement consequences with as few words as possible.  The only explanation I may offer is, "You knew the rule."  And what's so great about this is that they don't have to feel like bad kids.  I can even comfort them, feel sorry for them about it, tell them I love them and that they're wonderful children.  I can even tell them that the "choice" they made wasn't a "bad" choice.  It simply brought them a certain result (one they didn't happen to want).  There's no value judgment what-so-ever.  I can hug and love on them all I want!  But I can't give them the ice-cream.

It goes against every single natural inclination I have!  But I do it anyway and my kids have learned to sit at the table to eat, even when I'm not watching.  They really are well behaved kids.  Too well behaved sometimes I think.

This all sounds great doesn't it?  And with Alden and Isabel I can see this stuff clear as a bell.  But with Cale I can't see it two inches in front of my face.  Here's a rough sketch of what Cale's behaviors look like right now.

Long bouts of continuous screaming beginning with the slam of some beloved household item.  He runs around knocking things over - small tables with lamps on them, plants, chairs, pulling the cushions off the chairs and sofa and throwing everything he can get his hands on.  He throws water glasses, lamps, shoes, toys, straight at the heads of his brother and sister, at my head, he hits me, pinches me, you get the drift.

He's broken his closet doors again, many of his toys, and the screws holding the lock onto the outside of his bedroom door are slowly working their way out of the cheap, soft particle board the molding is made of.  My old houses always had wood molding that you couldn't pull a smooth nail out of without the use of a hammer and propped up foot.  But the lovely, fake, Harmony Lane house is just full of things that look sturdy, but are in reality as flimsy as the props on a stage.

He throws his entire plate of food on the floor at the introduction of every single meal, sending a million cereal pieces into the center of a large splat of gooey fruit smoothie followed by hamburger, water, raisins, cut up pickles, and shattered glass.  He's fast about it too.  He waits until I get up or turn around for half a second to grab the ketchup or answer one of Alden's questions, then he quickly pushes his drink and plate off the table.

As I desperately grab for paper towels, or regular towels, neither of which stay anywhere near the table for some reason (oh that's right, they're all covered in cereal, dried smoothie, and broken glass on the laundry room floor) he throws his brother's plate, then his sister's, and then mine, and if I'm still trying to keep the children out of the pile and clean it up, then he starts in on anything else that's around - movies, items of clean laundry, toys, shoes, therapy aides, etc. and throws them into the pile.

His sister, who has big time dietary issues of her own, crawls under the table and cries with her hands over her ears while Cale screams and throws things.  She can't stand loud noises, and Cale has again become virtually anything but.  I finally lost my mind on Thursday and swatted his bottom, becoming someone I don't want to be.  And I've been beating myself up inside ever since.

Jeeez, do you think the unwanted behaviors have been bringing Cale what he wants?  You bet they have, to some extent anyway.  And someone finally came along to show me where I was snagged.  This post has gotten too long.  I'll finish it up with the next one.