Hate Me Now, Thank Me Later: How to raise your kid with love and limits

Parents today are hypervigilant about the wrong things. The value of going to every game is lost when you spend that time tearing down your child. Using harsh words to coach basketball moves is shortsighted. Loving through carefully chosen language pays much bigger psychological dividends. Nothing will line up future success more than having your child internalize a loving and compassionate voice instead of a harsh and punitive one.

“Would you feed your kids junk food all day long? So don’t feed them junky thoughts.”

—Family therapist

This is a tall order, I know. Parenting presents you with so many unpredictable moments that shock you. When we don’t take time to think about how to respond, we revert back to the old way we were parented. Words fly out of our mouths before we have a chance to filter them.

If it was someone else’s kid on the court throwing the racket, we would not feel as reactive. But with our own child, love makes us irrational, and we go from zero to irate in two seconds. Emotions hijack our best judgment and can lead to a delivery that we are not proud of. It is easy in the heat of the moment to react with anger, shame, or blame.

The classic example is parents screaming at their kids to calm down. We can either model calmness or we will match their agitation tantrum for tantrum. So breathe, and think, before you speak.

Think of choosing language as a way of loving your child! Language can unite, or language can divide. Mindful parenting is the ultimate in damage control. Think of how you would have been spared had your parents chosen their words with more care.

The most stellar parents and teachers I interviewed all understand this essential secret: choosing words with grace is the most underrated tool in creating a strong parent-child bond—or any healthy relationship, really. In order to engage your child’s highest self, you have to talk to his or her highest self.

“If I can’t reach my child, I need to approach them with more care and different words.”

—Judy Mansfield, teacher

“When emotions are charged, and a child is frustrated, and when real learning is at a premium, words should be highly choreographed.”

—College coach

If words are choreography, delivery is music. And if the volume is turned too high, kids will just tune out.

“When my mum screams so loud, I can never hear her words, only the screaming. First I feel scared, then sad. ... Sometimes I wish that I had a different mum.”

—Tales from the couch

Rage and punishment may control behavior in the short run. Kids who are scared of their parents might appear submissive and even well behaved. But I assure you that intimidation as a means of control chips away at the foundation of the child’s self-esteem and paves the way for defenses to be built. The child’s real self goes underground. My job as a psychiatrist is to chisel away at those defenses and re-parent in a safer way.

So please help put me out of business. Let’s not fire the verbal arrows that make our kids build walls around their hearts. Instead of unleashing sharp words, try to keep them to yourself. We have an opportunity in each moment to give or to take, to add or subtract to our kids’ lives. Conscious choices with our words can edit a frustrated inner monologue into a more constructive dialogue. Practice filtering your thoughts so you don’t say hurtful words that can’t be taken back.

In other words, grow the muscles that will let you be reflective, not reflexive. This takes patience, practice, and commitment. But I can assure you it is so worth it. When you are calm and rational, you can set limits with love.

“When I am on overload and my kids are acting up, I give myself a time-out. I give myself a beat. I tell my girls that I will be right back. I sit on my bed and breathe. I give myself a moment so that I can calm down and feel more balanced.”

—Stay-at-home dad

That simple act has a profound effect. Exciting neuroscience research shows that if we parents can model calmness when our emotions are running high, we teach our kids to manage their emotions—what doctors call affect regulation. Affect regulation, in turn, lays down neurological pathways for a more resilient brain. In the prefrontal cortex, the brain governs decision making, attention, problem solving, and judgment. When emotions run high, the brain does not work as well. But if you stop to pause and calm your emotions, rational thought kicks back in. That takes practice to learn, and watching a parent do it helps children learn it, too. The brain is shaped by its experiences. Put simply, if you scream or get agitated at your kids, and your children regularly experience your uncontrolled emotions, then their brains will wire for uncontrolled emotion. But if you can parent calmly, you are literally wiring your child’s brain to be calmer. Thus your parenting has profound implications for your child’s brain development. That’s why it is essential to regulate your own emotions and teach your children to do the same.

But here is the parenting paradox: you can’t teach what you don’t know. Ah, so this is why they say our children are our greatest teachers. At the heart of good parenting is a lot of self-reflection and self-discipline. If you tend to fly off the handle or be short-tempered or impatient, here is an opportunity for growth.

Look how everyone evolved in this story. Two brothers were fighting and screaming over Legos. Just when Zach went to grab a piece out of the hand of his brother, Eric, the mum intervened. “Stop that! Stop fighting!” she yelled, frustrated. But then, instead of playing the harried referee, she quieted her tone and remembered a technique used in Montessori schools.

“Boys, I have an idea,” she whispered. “Let’s have you sit in the peace chair to settle the fight.” She placed two kids’ chairs facing each other. She picked up a giant paintbrush and held it with reverence. “This is the talking peace stick,” she said quietly, as if creating sacred folklore. “When you hold the stick, you may tell your side of the story. Your brother can’t speak while you hold it, he can only listen. Then your brother will get a turn.”

Seven-year-old Eric gently took the peace stick and explained, “I need the blue Lego to finish my ship.”

Then it was five-year-old Zach’s turn. His sobs softened as he began to realize he was going to be heard. “I am making a car and I really, really need the blue Lego, and there are no blue Legos left.”

So Mum offered the stick back to Eric with a question.

“I see that you both want the Lego. How do you think you could work it out?”

Eric thought for a moment and lit up with excitement. “I know, we both can start over and divide up all of the blue, green, yellow, and red pieces from the beginning and start over with exactly the same amount.”

Eric passed the talking stick to Zach, who managed one sentence through his tears: “I love you, Eric.”

The mum said to herself, Wow, I’m shocked that actually worked!

Let’s review what she did right.

• She calmed her own emotions down—we have to be the lesson before we can teach the lesson.

• She modeled a gentle tone.

• She set out clear rules for how to talk to each other.

• She gave the boys an opportunity to learn conflict resolution by empowering them to work it out themselves. They became more invested in the outcome and active participants in the problem solving.

And that’s how she transformed a fight about a piece into real peace.

“Every time you are tempted to react in the same way, ask if you want to be a prisoner of the past or a pioneer of the future.”

—Deepak Chopra

You are the hero or heroine of this fleeting story called childhood. How do you want to pen the tale?

Setting Limits with Love

1. Calm yourself. Check your own composure. Never discipline your child without first disciplining yourself.

2. Have empathy for your child’s struggle. Be with him, not against him.

3. Teach and hold the limit with respect. No shame, no blame.

Time

In The Gift of an Ordinary Day, the author Katrina Kenison writes about the preciousness of time and how quickly it passes.

Somehow our treasured family ritual of reading together at bedtime slipped away. No one asked for stories anymore. Baths were replaced by showers. ... Baseballs stopped flying in the backyard. A bedroom door that had always been open, quietly closed. ... I missed my old world and its funny little inhabitants, those great big personalities still housed in small, sweet bodies. I missed my sons’ kissable cheeks and round bellies, their unanswerable questions, their innocent faith, their sudden tears and wild, infectious giggles.

Soak it up while it is happening because it is gone too soon. Spend time. Make memories. Experience every moment you can. Give that gift to yourself and to your children.

I once read: “Kids spell love T-I-M-E.” We need to put time into childhood—slow, present time. From a psychiatrist’s standpoint, errors of omission are tough to forgive. Remember Harry Chapin’s song “Cat’s in the Cradle.” It’s hard to shake the memory and pain of absence. How we prioritize our time sends a clear message to our kids about what we value.

“I can promise you that no social engagement is as important as the one you have with your kids at home.”