A screen is a screen. To that Buddy responded "How about I make one?"

This week Buddy and I have been talking about screens. It's a bit of a sore topic because he's figured out that "screens" includes screen time on any device (including the TV). 

Buddy was so excited about the new Star Wars Angry Bird game that he decided he wanted to play it on the iPad Tuesday morning. He sometimes chooses to play something on the iPad for 15-20 minutes after getting ready for school while I get ready. Lately, he's been more enthusiastic about building things with Legos that the iPad hasn't come out to play for a while. However, he's been fascinated by Star Wars (though he's never seen the movie) ever since we went to Legoland in San Diego last winter. Now Star Wars and Angry Bird together … "that's what I'm talking about!" as Buddy would exclaim sometimes in excitement.

All the way to school - a whole 7 minutes - Buddy asked whether he could play Star Wars Angry Bird when he got home later. I calmly explained that he's already used up all of the allotted time for "screen" play. Somehow we managed only to repeat the exact same question and answer three times without anyone getting upset. I thought that was that. But, I was wrong. The conversation picked up right where we left it the minute I got him and Little Guy from school. Buddy has a great memory. So, we continued to discuss why he couldn't play Star Wars Angry Bird for the rest of the day. He was relentless. At some point, it went like this.

Buddy: Why can't I play Star Wars Angry Bird?

Me: I understand you like the game very much but you already played it for quite a long time this morning.

Buddy: <Silent>

Me: Also, when you play the iPad, your body is sitting and not moving. It's important for your health that you move your body often.

Buddy: But, I move my fingers!

Me (caught off guard and amazed): <Wow, I wasn't prepared for that response.>

Buddy: Can I watch something?

Me: Hmmm, your body would not be moving much while watching something.

There was a long pause. Then, there it was … he figured it out and shared with me, not in so many words, that anything with a screen is part of what our family defines as "screen" time. I was expecting him to be sad. But, he surprised me and came up with a uber creative idea. 

Buddy: How about I make one? I'll make a screen out of my Legos! How about that?!

Me: That's a great idea! I appreciate your flexibility and creativity. 

Buddy: We can play Star Wars Angry Bird on there.

Me (a little nervous now): <How will we do that?> 

Me: Uh, yea, maybe we can use the flashlight and shine it on the screen to look like you're playing Stars Wars Angry Bird?

Buddy: Yeah, that's a good idea!

Me (relieved for now): <I love the way he says that.>

The Lego screen took a few iterations. Buddy and I started building our own. Then, he built on my design and made it into a real screen with a flat surface. 

When Baba came home, it was time for a show. My idea with the flashlight flopped. Then, Buddy explained that he wanted to use the flashlight to create shadows that look like Star Wars Angry Bird on the screen. So, that's what we did using tiny Lego pieces. Little 1x1 squares were the angry birds. Tiny lights were the pigs. They sat on top of a pyramid of tiny Lego pieces. The shadows of this scene on the screen really did look a bit like the start of an Angry Bird game! I would've liked to have a picture but Buddy ended up playing the game … all the 'pigs' exploded and the pyramid was dismantled to modify his "souped-up" F1 car. The screen, however, remains intact and I can't wait to see what he wants to do with it next!

The Un-Terrible Twos

"I don't want! I don't want!!!" That was most of what I heard, accompanied by exasperated, head-thrown-back cries, during our bedtime routine tonight. It's actually what I hear a lot these days from Little Guy. Yes … we're in the "Terrible Twos". This is familiar territory and this time I'm prepared. After all, I was just here about two years ago with Buddy. At that time, I was completely unprepared for the so-called "Terrible Twos" stage. I heard about it from other parents, those who have been through the slaughter and came out alive on the other side as well as those heading into it. Being a first time parent, I just assumed that the "Terrible Twos" (or Threes as some people described how their kids skipped it at 2 but got hit hard at 3) was a real thing.

The mentality I had was that I needed to discipline my child during this "Terrible Twos" stage or else I'm in for a lifetime of unacceptable behavior. But, I didn't know how. I didn't have any tools to help me or my child manage his emotional roller coaster rides. By all accounts, Buddy was generally a happy toddler and as sweet and gentle as they come (of course, I'm biased!). However, when Buddy was upset … it was like the world had ended (in Chinese we say "tian du ta xia lai la - 天都塌下來", which literally means "the sky has fallen"). He reminded me a lot of myself as a child in that regard, which gave me the ability to empathize but not enough to keep me calm at times.

Just when I was at the end of my ropes and in utter despair about my parenting skills, I came across a talk about the brain in the context of child development and parenting. The information I learned was just the tip of the iceberg and had me so excited that I wanted to read more and turn the information into actual parenting strategies and techniques. I physically felt a light bulb turn on above my head, sparks flying in my brain, and energy flowing from my body to my limbs. Up until then, I had been searching for parenting books or advice but nothing felt right. The brain and the nervous system spoke to me. The fundamentals of how the brain develops opened the door to true understanding of what's happening in my child, particularly in those unpleasant moments - the tantrums - where the body is on the floor with all limbs flailing in the air along with loud shrieks of cries that speak of the injustice that's been done to him.

I came to learn that emotions (not feelings) are a chemical reaction in the body. Some children experience much bigger emotions than their little bodies can handle and they do not yet have the cognitive ability to express those emotions with appropriate behavior. This was exactly the case with Buddy. During a breakdown, his little body was experiencing an emotional tidal wave that he absolutely had no control over. His body needed to let the tidal wave wash through before he landed on a warm sandy beach facing a calm sea. Any attempt to discipline him during the tidal wave was futile because he did not have the mental capacity to engage with me on that level. However, if I acknowledged the emotion of the tidal wave by naming it for him, he tended to calm down more quickly. That's when I could pull up his little tired body, hold him close while sitting on the warm sand to talk about what was the tidal wave and what to do with it next time, while watching the calm sea in the horizon.

Two years since that fateful talk, which created a paradigm shift in my brain, and two years of determined practice of parenting with the brain in mind, I don't think of Little Guy as being in the "Terrible Twos" or call his emotional breakdowns tantrums. The lens through which I view this stage is just that - a developmental stage that children must go (and we all went) through as part of growing up. It's a stage of great exploration and learning to satisfy endless curiosity and test boundaries, find and gain some independence and self-identify, and exert some control over their world. This perspective has made me more peaceful and creative, which probably diverts my attention away from anger and frustration, when working through unpleasant situations with Little Guy (and Buddy … in his fours). It also encourages me to put myself in my children's shoes so that I can better understand what they're experiencing … what does the world look like from their vantage point? And, as with anything, a little bit of humor helps a lot!

When I got inspired to write this post, I was curious about where the term "Terrible Twos" came from. So I did a quick search on "terrible twos history" and found many links on the topic. As it turns out, the term was coined in the 1950s, long time ago, and not supported by research. Most of the articles from modern parenting resources provide similar information - most common and important one is that this is a normal developmental stage. So, why do we still call it the "Terrible Twos"? Maybe it's time we dropped the label and let the Twos be just that - 2s.

Role play, okay … but not playing roles.

Role play fosters curiosity and learning. It is also a great way to expose children to the various roles people play in a community and the society at large. But, it recently dawned on me that we don't often talk about how every person plays multiple roles in life. Just the other day I was telling Buddy that I would be out teaching Pilates while he naps. He was making something with the fresh play dough we just made. But, I can tell he was thinking. He paused, turned around, with a very concerned face, and asked "Mama, when you teach Pilates, are you still my mama?" Wow! What a question. My heart did a little dip and slowly floated back up as I caught my breath and composed my answer. I told him "Of course! I'm always your mama no matter what I'm doing and even when I'm not with you". He seemed comforted and reassured (for now). However, I went on to share that each person can be many things in life at the same time and that he will also play many roles later on when he grows up. I might have lost him with that last part as he returned to his play dough. :) Someone once told me that signs from the universe come in pairs. A week after that conversation with Buddy, a teacher at school asked Little Guy "what do you want to be when you grow up?" Without any hesitation, Little Guy replied, with his usual upswing singsongy voice and just a little bit of incredulous (as in what kind of question is that), "Just Little Guy!” So simple yet so profound … in that one second Little Guy reminded me that he and Buddy already have their true potential inside. All I have to do is pay attention and don't mess it up! 

Not until I read Siblings without Rivalry did I realize the impact on children when parents peg them into roles. Being the eldest of three girls, I've lost track of the number of times I heard "you're the oldest, you need to give in, let go, control yourself, be the bigger person [or insert whatever good behavior I'm suppose to exhibit because I'm the eldest]". The worst was "you're the oldest so you need to be a good role model for your sisters". My parents probably didn't know it but that short phrase put tremendous pressure on me. I had a vague sense of what "good" meant. Guāi, that's what I was supposed to be. It means to behave well. Chinese parents love to hear their children described by others as guāi because it means a well-behaved child. It is usually a compliment for the parents. Yes, I get it! Who doesn't want a well-behaved child? I do too! But, guāi is so vague when nothing descriptive about the behavior that called for the praise follows. So, in vagueness I tried to be a role model for my sisters. In the process I also embodied the character traits my parents assigned to me. I was the studious one, the organized one, and the serious one. My sisters were given other descriptors. In hindsight, it seems we had to be different from one another.  


Fast forward many years … instinctively I want to say "Buddy, you're older so you need to [fill in the blank]" whenever he and Little Guy get into it or "Buddy, you're older so you need to show Little Guy how to [insert a good behavior]" whenever I catch Little Guy copying Buddy's inappropriate behavior … except I don't say it. I don't say it because I don't want to put that kind of pressure on Buddy. He shouldn't have to mature faster just because he's got a younger sibling. It is also not fair to Little Guy. Little Guy needs the same kind of guidance I gave Buddy when he was Little Guy's age. It is not fair for me to delegate that to Buddy for any reason. It also wouldn't serve them well to position Buddy as the more grown up, responsible one while allowing Little Guy to be the silly and goofy one just because of their birth order. The truth is that birth order is just the order in which a child is born into a family. It doesn't need to dictate a hierarchy. My hope is that Buddy and Little Guy will develop a tight bond that's fluid. Yes, right now the age gap is apparent. However, soon enough it won't be. I don't have all the answers just because I'm the eldest. Sometimes, my younger sisters are the ones who are wiser and give me much needed guidance and support.

It's convenient and easy to categorize people. Categorization seemingly helps us manage our interactions with one another – a perception of predictability. But, people are complex and multi-faceted. Not only that, they change … all the time! As a parent, I can see the attractiveness of penning down what I might want to believe to be character traits in Buddy and Little Guy as I discover them. However, by labeling Buddy or Little Guy with whatever I see at any stage of their development would be inserting my bias into their own narrative. I can't do that! Children already care so much about what their parents think of them … their natural tendency is to please their parents. I know Buddy and Little Guy will care about what I think of them. But, I want them to care more about what they think of themselves. My job is to observe and nurture what's already there but also push a little (because children need that) so they get out of their comfort zone, where learning happens.

Why a walk and not a journey?

I've been wanting to capture and remember (and perhaps share) stories from my parenting experience - inspired by the ups and downs, the ordinary and the extraordinary - for a long time. My initial idea was to call this life-changing and profound experience a journey. But, then it occurred to me that a "journey" usually signifies a beginning and an end, or at least with a goal of reaching a destination. That didn't feel right. I entered into a life-time contract with my children when I became a parent. There's a beginning for sure … but not an end. I can feel that my parents still want to know what I'm up to, want to hear my voice, want to see me, want the best for me, want me to be happy. As a parent of young children, these are the same wants I have and imagine I will continue to have as my little ones grow up. After much pondering … it came to me … this is about a walk.

Why a walk? As I thought deeply about this, I realized that as a parent, I want to walk with my kids - in both the literal and the metaphorical sense. Literally, I hope to be taking walks of all lengths and sorts with my kids. Buddy is 4.5 and Little Guy is 2.5 now. Currently our walks (for these two, it's usually a run) can be from the bedroom to the living room, from our apartment down to our car where we stop and look for snails in the common area planters, or a stroll on the nearby bike-path or a hike in a park. Lots of things happen on these walks - running back and forth with glee between my bedroom and the living room, counting the number of snails we can find on the way to our car, stopping to look at fallen flowers and leaves on the bike path, checking out weird insects during a hike. Most importantly, feeling connected as a family and sharing experiences. It is through these walks that I get to know and learn about them … what they are like in different situations and context, and how I might best support them and enrich their experiences. In a metaphorical sense, a walk feels more appropriate and almost more real because it can describe so many experiences - beyond the physical. Emotionally and spiritually, I imagine being their companion in these walks. This started even when they couldn't walk to now, when they are off running the minute their feet hit the ground outside. They still want to hold hands a lot … want me nearby, want to hear my voice, want to see that I see them in the simplest of activities (e.g., drawing, singing and dancing, going to the bathroom). I imagine one day, not far from now, they will still want me "walking" alongside with them but maybe not too close … definitely not holding hands, especially when their friends are within sight. Soon after that, and probably without anyone of us noticing (but hopefully I will be mindful enough to notice this change), they will ask me to stay back, to walk behind, to be there but not be there. So, I'll walk behind them … just watching but at the ready if they need me. After a while, they might even forget that I'm there. But, I'll always be there … if they want to know, all they have to do is turn around and I'm there. 

I used to take afternoon and evening walks with my grandparents. Often times, my sister and I would run ahead. But, we always knew where my grandparents were in relation to us. Grandfather walked faster so he was always just a few steps behind. Grandmother usually lagged behind Grandfather a good 10-15 steps. As she tries to keep up the pace, we would hear her shout at us to stop running. Something about this knowledge was comforting. As I got older, I would stay back with Grandmother to keep her company because I thought she might get lonely. Although we often didn't talk much, through these walks I saw a softer side of my Grandmother … a side that didn't show as much in the day-to-day. Through these walks, my sister and I built a life-long bond with our grandparents … something we both remember even after they've gone.