This trailer for the Present Perfect Film is too good not to watch. My boys’ childcare program from one-year until the start of elementary school was affiliated with a nursing home, to which they took regular walking field trips. The trailer for this video shows how powerful and important inter-generational relationships can be. I think I’ll contact one of the many nursing homes around our neighborhood to see about adding some visits into our summer activity list. You can go to Kickstarter if you want to support this film.
Category Archives: Present Moment Parenting
How ’bout a pre-school in a nursing home?
Be a Better Mirror
What’s the difference between these two boys? Yes, this is a shameless trick question. On the surface, they have a different mouth and background. One looks happy, the other a little sad. The REAL reason I asked this question is because there’s another less obvious but more significant difference: Me.
I made these drawings when my wife was recently out of town for a week…in Hawaii. The boys and I were not in Hawaii. We were at home…in Minnesota. In January. Minnesota and Hawaii have the ability to create different moods in people, especially in January. Add in a very busy week full of long hours, solo parenting, and science fairs my stress level went up a few points.
By the end of the week, I realized that the look on my boy’s faces had changed too. Sure, they missed their mom, but I knew that wasn’t the most significant factor. I had let my stress, low energy and winter blues get the best of me. My boys were mirroring the expression they were seeing from me. No only that, they were taking on my mood as well.
When children and youth see a steady stream of adult expressions that are moody, depressed, frustrated, stressed and in general less than happy, it sends a non-verbal message. Non-verbal messages are powerful for boys, especially when they come from men. They can easily internalize the belief that it’s “manly” to be frustrated, over-concerned, controlled by circumstances and in general less than happy.
The good news is that we don’t need to leave it that way. We can be a better mirror. We can model self-awareness. We can choose our response to our circumstances. We can show with our actions that, even though life isn’t always easy, our mood is our choice. We can make a joke. Crack a smile (if it feels unnatural, you need to practice it more). Be playful. If you’ve forgotten how, just lay down on the floor in the middle of the living room. If you’ve got little boys around they’ll remind you.
The Mask You Live In
Here’s the video from my workshop yesterday at the MnSACA-MnAEYC conference. The film is premiering at Sundance right now, from what I understand. Looking forward to connecting with all of you again. If you like my facebook page (upper right), you can get regular updates as I post more information.
Ninja dad wins by quitting
Last night at karate Braden had a big win. It wasn’t against another kid, nor was it by breaking a board. For me, it was even better than that, because it reflected a parenting achievement as well. The interesting thing about this achievement was that it came from me taking myself OUT of the picture. Here’s the story.
I have posted about being a Ninja Parent and Perfectionist Dad in the past. Both of these were mistakes I made that I tried to remedy. At Braden’s karate lessons, I had been making too many comments and giving too many looks when he would make mistakes. Yes, I knew better, but sometimes we all get caught up in the moment.
I clearly saw the negative effects of my critical eye in the way Braden performed. He constantly looked over at me to see if I was happy or unsatisfied with him.
His frequent glances cost him. He lost sparring points and got punched and kicked when he looked over to see my reactions. During form practices, he missed instructions, got distracted and lost his spot.
In the Perfectionist Dad post I explained how difficult it can be for kids when nothing is ever good enough for their parents. It’s easier if we can pick one bite-sized goal to work on. I had done this with Braden and usually asked him in the car what HIS goal was for the lesson. I did not to judge or evaluate. It was his goal, not mine.
However, we still had the problem with dad distraction whenever I came to watch. His teacher commented on it one day when he performed far below his skill level: “Braden, one day you won’t need to look at your dad because you’ll already know what he thinks when you do your techniques.”
I decided to back off even more. We created a hand signal together. When he sparred or did forms, I would subtly shade my eyes with my hand like a visor. For him, this meant, “Don’t look at me.” For me, it meant, “No comments—verbal or nonverbal.” If he looked, he would see the reminder. He should focus on his moves, his targets, and the instructor. Nothing else. I even stopped asking him about his goals. I had to let it go.
Last night, I stayed at the lesson, and was amazed by his focus. He practiced a new, very complex form with the bo staff and made several mistakes. Still, he kept his eyes forward and made corrections according to Mr. Carnahan’s instructions. I didn’t say anything at the moment, but when we got home, I mentioned it.
His answer: “THAT was my goal.”
Another boy living from the heart
Devonte Hart’s story shows how boys have tremendous emotional capacity even when they have come through sever trauma, neglect and abuse. However, Johnny Nguyen’s photos (below) of what he did at a Ferguson rally may say it best. Don’t miss the chance to read this great story.
PsycHappens 