The email brought me to my knees simply read: I’d like to organize a zoom graduation. My eyes filled. My heart clutched. At first I quieted: containing my grief. After all, it is not high school graduation, or college graduation. It is not a wedding deferred; it’s not the most important adolescent social relationships disrupted; it’s not a job loss or a death or harrowing illness. It’s not anywhere near to the most heartbreaking havoc that COVID-19 has spurred. But it is heart break that my girls won’t get to hug their beloved teachers one last time, that I won’t commiserate over kindergarten placements with the other mothers, that there will not be promises of playdates beyond preschool, when this small group of children- many of them bilingual anomalies growing up in suburbia- break apart from their protective preschool bubble into kindergarten, where so many of them will be the only bilingual and the only biracial child in the classroom. More than anything, it’s the ritual of the graduation for which I am aching: the noticing that time has passed, that things were sweet, that now we will go on new adventures. It is the fear of leaning into the increasingly unknown educational landscape that has be grasping for something mundane like a line of four year olds wearing construction paper hats that fall over their eyes. I wish for their teacher’s shining face, leading them through hand movements. I wish for parents and grandparents sitting in tiny preschool chairs- half of them English speaking, half of them Spanish speaking, all of them with knees reaching up to their chest because the chairs were made for humans much smaller. I miss the everyday celebration of these wonderful children and the community they’ve built together. Grieving the loss of preschool graduation and of this little community doesn’t eclipse the harrowing illness and death, the economic worry, or the social sorrow of the present moment. It is rather to say, this is just one more thing, but this one thing was the drop that overflowed my bucket. My preschoolers did not know they needed this particular rite of passage, and so they are not grieving it. After all, it is I who needed it- me, who needed the other mothers, me who, hoped our family would see their sweet friendships and brilliant water colors. For these little girls, this is what there is, and it is alright. And as their mother, what I want to give them is a way to mark the time, to celebrate and to acknowledge, to remember the sweetness of preschool and shine light on how exciting the next adventure- a kindergarten that none of us can yet imagine- will be. A celebration will suffice, and we will acknowledge all that they’ve learned and all the wish to become. They will probably ask for golden rainbow cakes, and I will probably make golden rainbow cakes, because I do believe that magic and celebration and acknowledgement and saying “you’re ready to learn more things now” is an important marker of time.

You know song by The Shirelles that kicks off with "mama said, mama said"? I've finally found my Buddha phrase. Two years into taking the signature, 12-week Positive Parenthood course for the first time, I finally found my Cool & Calm phrase. I've made them up when pressed- I've tried "this too shall pass" and also "don't worry, be happy."  None of them really fit, though.... The Cool & Calm phrase is a short thing you decide to say to yourself in moments of distress, in order to stay calm yourself so that you don't resort to saying things like "BECAUSE MAMA SAID SO" or "if you don't share that plastic dinosaur with your sister RIGHT NOW you are never going to play with plastic dinosaurs ever again." So, it's a pretty little phrase with a pretty big role, because it is actually going to help you stay calm when parenting is rocky, and most parents know.... that things can get real rocky, real quick, real often when their are parents and children and responsibilities involved. So, "this too shall pass" has never really worked for me because I would never say that. "Don't worry be happy" didn't fit because it felt like something I'd say when I was on a carefree beach with someone worried about getting sand in blown into the fruit salad, which is a much smaller aggravation than my everyday experience of not feeling calm when my children start fighting over plastic dinosaurs, baby dolls that talk, or that specific blue cup (and not the exact same blue cup which we own six of- only that one). So I've been searching for a Cool & Calm phrase that would really work. A phrase that I could really ground to, one that would actually help me regulate myself when my children are doing all the things that really push my buttons. And tonight this song popped into my head: Mama said there'll be days like this There'll be days like this, mama said Mama said there'll be days like this There'll be days like this, my mama said Our Cool & Calm phrases have to work for each and every one of us, personally. There's a dad we work with who's Cool & Calm phrase is "teflon." It helps him remember that he can let the hard moments slide off him, that he's got a no-stick finish for all those times when things are legit challenging. You know, saying "teflon" to myself would never work- I'd be like I'm not some kind of weird metal and isn't there a health concern with teflon? But that's the beauty here: it works for him. He found it. That's all that matters. And I think I've found mine. It's singing to myself "mama said, mama said... there'll be days like this, my mama said." See, I pulled the mother-as-a-parent-educator lucky card, and not only do I get to work on Positive Parenthood professionally, but I also have the good fortune of being Robin's daughter. While her calm nature isn't genetic it is the case the recalling her lessons and acknowledgement of the sweet madness (is that an oxymoron? I don't think so!) that is parenting is in itself, very calming for me. And that is exactly what this little chorus does for me. It reminds me, that even Robin herself- our parenting guru and my mama- knows that sometimes, there's going to be hard days. And that, no matter how hard the day, she always always holds the belief that the Positive Parenthood tools can help you through anything. Literally, anything. And it is that steadfast belief, backed up by decades of knowledge, dozens of tools, and the fact that she raised me that calms me down enough to know that... it's going to be OK, and I can be OK even if my children are really struggling, and that truly, the most important thing is.... me being OK when my children are having a really, really hard time. So, here's what works for me: Mama said there'll be days like this There'll be days like this, mama said Mama said there'll be days like this There'll be days like this, my mama said What works for you? Do you just replace "mama" with "Robin" or do you have a saying like "teflon" or "this too shall pass" or, as Robin herself shares is her Cool & Calm phrase, "hmmmmm...." What works for you?

Offering positive touch- in a way that works for your individual child- is an important part of giving praise. Consider times when you've done exceptionally well at work or in your family- do you love to give high-fives, do you throw your fist in the air, or do you like a big hug? All of us have different orientations to how we like to experience praise, but for many of us using our bodies to celebrate is a key element- and it's the same for your child! What kind of positive touch do you offer when you tell your little one they are doing something well? Because many children with special needs have sensory issues, touch can be an important piece of communicating, relationship building, and teaching. Learning how to give your child the touch that is right for her or him can deeply enhance your parent-child relationship. Many children, especially when they are over-aroused, love deep pressure. Some of the gestures they might enjoy including having their hands, shoulders, upper or lower arms squeezed. At times, squeezing the torso by having the child face away from you and firmly wrapping your arms around their torso to squeeze is a welcome gesture! Other children like the "chest press and shake."  Place one hand on the chest, the other on the back, and squeeze together briefly with a little shake. If a child is working on a task, sometimes a side-by-side buddy hug is best, as it allows the child to stay focused and oriented to the task they are completing. Other children are prone to under-arousal, and for these children light, quick moving touches are best. For example, you can grasp a child's hand a shake, or place a hand on their belly and jiggle lightly. If your child ever flinches or recoils when you are offering touch for praise, it may indicate that your touch has triggered sensory defensiveness. If this happens, try another kind of touch on the list. You can also consult an occupational therapist who can help you to identify what kind of touch works best for your child.

Lots of research suggests that if possible, parents should keep little eyes away from screens. At the very least, most studies show that children under two should not be exposed to screens because the impact on their brains is pretty negative. However- there’s little research on the impact of screens and parenting… and yet we all know how deeply cell technologies have shifted parenting practices. Most of us have thousands- if not millions- of photos that chronicle our children’s lives. We send them over text and post them to social media. And often, we share, view, and swipe on our digital devices while we are parenting. I do it all the time- when things are really mundane, I just need a little freshness or to know that there are other mothers out there doing the same things as I am. Connecting is soothing, it helps me feel a part of a community raising children, and it makes me feel visible. What’s really interesting about this is that my desire to be part of something really big and relational and community oriented is mediated by a cell phone, and many researchers believe that that cell phone facilitating my connection to others is harming the connection I have with my children. The issue is that while I’m filling my attentional needs through social media, my children are making bids for my attention, and I’m failing to respond. I think we need to complicate this: surely, women have long failed to respond to their children because they were preoccupied by other women, activities, work- whatever it was. However, I do think this challenge is symptomatic of late capitalism, even if I favor a more holistic view that incorporates technology as fundamental to our society over the blame-based model where social media is blamed for weakening relationships between parent and child. The truth is, we all need connection: both children and adults require it. Children’s brains are developing, and they are also learning how to behave socially- and so connection with their parents is really important. However, mothers now spend more time with their children than they did in the 1960s! So what is going on? Let’s take a step back and look at the systems: we live in a world that often requires both parents to work full-time, just to make ends meet. Families are often scattered across different cities and states. Financial stress, the sleek perfection of family life curated on social media, and in most of us, a deep desire for connection are part of the portrait that makes up our lives. It’s no wonder we reach for our phones and start to scroll, even when our children need us. So what’s to be done about it? Start connecting. Put your phone away when you’re with your kids. Select activities to do with your children that you really love- activities that make your forget about your phone. Connect with others- attend groups and classes and playdates where there are other moms and other children. Build opportunities into your life where both you and your child receive the kind of connection you both crave, deserve, and need. Be aware of your habits, but be gentle with yourself. It’ OK to want to be connected, and it’ a need you can fulfill in one of many different ways. So go fourth, and find your tribe!

Mama, she whispered. Mama, I want to facetime gramma. Mama, can I put your password in? I was asleep, and my little one nudged the side of my face, asking for my cell phone. I sighed and handed it over, the memory of my children’s screen use getting out of hand earlier this year still fresh in my mind. You see, screens are different in a pandemic, aren’t they? We were a “moderate” screen use family, and I’m a screen-positive mama- until things went South. It was on the drive home from our annual family Tahoe trip as my three year old screamed “Give! Me! My! Phone!” (it was actually my phone) that I realized I had to make a shift. Two and a half weeks into “No Screen March,” which I was using to reset our families’ screen practices…. COVID-19 hit. I’m proud that we stayed screen-free through March, and that we did indeed, reset. Our family’s current practice is Friday or Saturday night movie night- and we discuss which movie all week, make special treats, and all watch together. We host a daily zoom, and Facetime with cousins and friends. And we are so gentle with ourselves- last week, I was utterly exhausted. We watched a movie. It is a time to be gentle about screen use- and yet, we rely so heavily right now on screens. Screens have become the portal through which many of our children learn. Parents are left attempting to manage multiple kids on multiple virtual meetings, scrambling for the correct link and enough screens for multiple children to participate. For some of our children, especially those who can manage the links and the assignments and the tech troubleshooting- virtual learning is empowering. Through their screen, they enter into a world with friends, bright images, familiar content and teachers who miss them. They are transported from their bedroom or living room into a digital classroom that is vast. And for others, virtual learning might imply a loss of agency: they may be unable to manage multiple zoom meeting numbers, or they may struggle to connect with teachers and friends without being able to read their body language and affect. Sitting at a screen might just be too much, or their bodies might be sensitive to the blue light or the flat faces on the screen. For some, a show while mama loads the dishwasher is a good break, for others seeing a beloved relative on a screen but not being able to nestle into their arms is too much. For some, screens are up-regulating. For others, they are down-regulating. All of these ways of being are OK. Our task as parents is to identify how screens are going for each of our children, and to respond accordingly. Join us next week to discuss how to manage screens and how to make sense of your child’s experience. The most important thing is our children’s social emotional health right now. The relationship you have with your child is what is going to help them move through this time, screens or no screens. So nurture that relationship, and experiment with what works regarding media use. And know that dropping out of virtual academic opportunities is just fine. Delving into digital making with your teen is just fine. Doing what you need to do to nurture your child’s emotional experience of this global event is what is most important right now: academically, your child will catch up. Their heart is the most important thing, and their heart is deeply connected to yours. Take care of yourselves, dear parents.

I am going to tell you a little story, and it is going to help you understand why co-regulation is at the heart of Positive Parenthood, and why parental calm can (almost always) save the day, and also, why parental stress can (almost always) ruin the day. It is a true story.  I took my three little girls to a play-space. When we first arrived, my littlest was dead asleep, and so while the big girls played I settled into a rocking chair and basked in the sweetness that is heavy baby sleep. I stuck my purse in one of the cubbies near the rocker. I watched my big girls jump on the trampoline. The baby woke up, and I followed her around. And then I told my littles we were going to be heading out: first we had five minutes, then three minutes, then one minute, then a countdown. We put our shoes on. One child started crying. I implored her to put on her shoes. She did.  And then I reached for my purse and realized my keys were no longer in it.  Had I taken them out? I scanned the rocking chair area- had they fallen out in the cubby? I circled the play area once, then twice- had I dropped them? Left them in the bathroom?  My sensitive child noticed and started asking "Mama, where's our keys? Mama? Mama? We gonna have our keys? Mama?"  Because exactly what you need after you've spent what feels like forever preparing your children to leave the playspace and swing by the grocery store is to freaking lose your keys and have your child ask you approximately four hundred and seven times if we are going to find them.  The others moms started helping. One dove into the ball pit also known as germ pit to look. The employee swore she'd seen the keys on the bright blue lanyard. We all looked. Two of my children resumed playing. The third- yah, that sensitive one who'd already asked four hundred and seven times if I was going to find my keys- gripped my hand and wrinkled her forehead. "Mama, they in the caaar? Mama how we going to our caaar? Mama we go to store now? You find your keys? We going mama? I help you look? They fall out of your purse?"  She was basically narrating all of my worry, which I wore on my face and in my heart. Finally I called my husband. And worried child asks "Mama is Papa coming here? Is he here? Is he driving? Where is Papa? We going in Papa's car?"  Another mother swore she saw a child wearing the keys around her neck. I begged the employee to call everyone who'd been there, and beg the parents to search their diaper bags.  I called the car dealership, who informed me I'd have to tow the car and pay like, thousands of dollars to have a new key made. I'm like I f*cking hate FOBs and I wish I had a regular key and technology sucks and I suck and if I'm gonna spend a couple thousand dollars I want a vacation and a babysitter and I am probably going to be paying off the stupid f*cking mistake for like ever because how could I have lost the damn keys, and some assh*le parent let their kid take my keys out of my purse and I f*cking hate this whole situation.  And there piped up my worried three year old "Mama we going home? You no find your keys? They are lost? The kids do it? They not in the balls? She looking? Lady calling the mamas because someone was playing with keys?" This child hears every freaking thing every single person ever says, and sometimes she hears it even when we don't say it. She must be telepathic.  So then I called my mom, because I realized that three carseats wouldn't fit in my husband's car, and we'd need two cars to get home. My husband arrives and starts looking. My mom arrives and sits down in the lobby ands not three minutes later stands up and says "I found them." Two hours of searching and my mom finds them in three minutes. Of course.  We went out to Thai because it was way past dinnertime, and my worried child continued to be worried- as evidenced by the wrinkles on her little forehead. Her twin- the one who'd happily gone back to playing- started to whine. She wanted to sit on my lap and wrap her arms around my neck. She did not want to sit with her Papá, or her grandmother. She teetered on the edge of tantrum. I was like really?!?!? Now?!?!? Have you ever felt like that, like on the one day where you're like I just really need them to be good because I cannot take anymore they are the absolute worst?  It's called co-regulation, and it's the reason our kids lose it every time we have a horrible day. Did you see how my worried little one gripped my hand, tighter each time I made another lap around the play-space, turning over buckets and lifting up cushions? Did you see how she entered a state of hyper-alert awareness as my stress grew, and her little ears picked up every single word I said, and she tried to use her little three year old mind and language to understand what was happening, "Mama we no have keys, mama you lose your keys, mama is papa coming?"  She didn't just read my words, though. She's only three, but she's got a super-power that allows her to feel me like she's telepathic. Some people call it heart-reading. That's why even if I hadn't said a word, she would have known.  And the truth is, her telepathic heart-reading was accurate. She could feel what I was thinking, which, remember... went something like this: I f*cking hate FOBs and I wish I had a regular key and technology sucks and I suck and if I'm gonna spend a couple thousand dollars I want a vacation and a babysitter and I am probably going to be paying off the stupid f*cking mistake for like ever because how could I have lost the damn keys, and some assh*le parent let their kid take my keys out of my purse and I f*cking hate this whole situation.  You probably are thinking.. "dude, she needs to go to therapy and I never get that stressed." But I'm gonna call your bluff. If you actually listen to the voices in your head, what, actually, are they saying? And if you're really, really honest, how often do you think your little ones feel the feeling you're having, without being able to articulate what is going on? The prone-to-whining twin  has heart-telepathy too, she just shows it differently. She doesn't ask a million questions, she doesn't help search, she doesn't wrinkle her little brow.... she clings, she falls apart, she tantrums. She comes to what she knows is secure- in this case, me- and holds on tight. And her little eyes fill up with tears and her chin quavers and she demands whatever she wants, and panics when she can't have it. And here's the rub: now she needs security and consistency but I'm stressed out myself and can't really give it to her, and so she gets more stressed, which makes me more stressed, which makes her more stressed, which makes me more stressed... which is how we ended up with a whiney tantrum just as the green curry was being set on the table.  What I want to say here, is that this is a practice. We're all going to get stressed. What I could have said was... "Sweetie, mama is really worried right now, isn't she! Gosh. I bet we'll find our keys. Can I have a hug?" I bet if could have articulated to them, in an age appropriate way, that I was having a rough go, they would have looked at me and said "It's ooooo-k" in the same sing-song way they do when they're well-regulated and the goldfish spill on the floor.  What matters is that we practice staying calm, that we reflect on our experiences and share that reflection with our kids, so that they can witness how we deal with our stress, and through that witnessing become little beings with extraordinary ability to move through whatever life throws at 'em... even lost keys in a toddler play-space.