My blog is not dead.

Hello kittens! My blog is still alive. Sort of.

Anyone here have a toddler? I am currently watching mine through my video monitor, talking about her day in a Faulkner-esque stream of consciousness and pushing her baby doll around in her stroller instead of sleeping. I figure as long as she's no longer screaming, "MAMA!!!! HUG!!!!!" over and over again, she'll be fine.

I can hardly blame Toddler B for my lack of writing. I can blame only myself. It is true that the second I pull out my laptop, no matter how engaged she is in something, there are requests for videos of The Count or Elmo, banging on the keyboard, and it turns out it's a bit hard to ignore a small person crawling all over you to get a better view of the screen. And I DIE when she laughs maniacally like The Count after every number. ONE! AH HA HA. TWO! AH HA HA. Plus, I'd much rather be playing dress up or teaching her phonological awareness and concepts of print skills* than looking at a computer screen, so I barely dust off the old girl.

Actually, the real reason I've been MIA is because mama is writing another book! I am on Chapter 19 of 20 and in an ironic twist, I am procrastinating writing the chapter on task completion even though I am so close. A girl gets tired after 18 chapters, what can I say?

So stay tuned for your regularly scheduled blog in a few weeks. And very soon, get ready for a book on executive functioning that will rock your nerdy world! NERDS....UNITE!!!

*I know you're wondering it. Yes, Toddler B has fantastic concepts of print. Also, the other day I'm pretty sure she was using textual evidence to support inferences within a non-fiction text.

Car Seat Wars.

They (the royal “they”) say to write about what you know. Lately, I have been learning a lot about behavior modification. I will write about that. No, I haven’t learned about behavior mod through a great professional development or fabulous new book for school psychologists. I have been engaging in battles with a tiny tyrant I made myself.

Look how happy this toddler is in her car seat. This is not Toddler B.

The car seat is basically a toddler’s Battle of Little Bighorn, alá Custer’s Last Stand. It has become the battleground for all age-appropriate fights for independence with Toddler B. And even though I have extensive training in behavior modification, it turns out it is really hard to apply to your own kid. I have tried the following strategies, in order from my highest level of patience to my lowest form of parenting. I think teachers and school psychs may be able to relate, if they have ever engaged in a battle of wills with a child before…

1) Preparing for the Transition and Providing Anticipatory Guidance

It goes a little something like this:

Mama B: Toddler B? Want to go to the zoo? Won’t that be FUN? Wouldn’t you like that?

Toddler B: Zoo! Choo choo! giraffe! Carousel! Up and down!

MB: Yes, let’s go! We will have to get in the car seat to go.

TB: Car seat!

MB: Whhheeeeeeeee! Car seat! How fun! Mama’s gonna click you in! Click, click, click! Then off to the zoo. Ready?

**puts TB in car seat. TB arches back and screams NOOOOOOOO!**

 MB: Honey, we have to go in the car seat to go to the zoo. Don’t you want to go to the zoo?

TB: NO!

MB: Really? You don’t want to go see the giraffes?

TB: NO!!!!!!

MB: Hm.

2) Trying to Make it A Game: The Countdown

MB: Let’s play a game! Mama’s gonna count to five and then let’s see if you can have your buns in your seat by five! Ready? 1…2….

TB: *smiling*

MB: 3…4….

TB: NO!

MB: 5! Wheeeee! Buns down!

TB: All done car!

3) Bribing.Incentives.

MB: Well, mama has a treat in her bag if you want to sit down.

TB: Treat!

MB: If you sit down mama will give you the treat.

TB:

4) Providing a Clear Expectation and Rationale

MB: Sit down please.

TB: No sit.

MB: I need you to sit down so we can go to the zoo. It’s for safety. We can’t drive to the zoo if you’re not in your seat because if we get in an accident, you’ll get an owie.

TB:

MB: If you don’t sit down, we can’t go to the zoo.

5) Providing a Consequence

MB: Okay, fine we are not going to the zoo then.

TB: ZOO!

MB: You need to sit down then.

TB: No.

**takes TB out of car**

TB: Waaaaaaaaaaa! ZOO!

MB: Okay, well if you want to go, you have to get in your car seat. That’s the rule. 

TB: Car seat.

MB: Okay, here we go!

**Tiny Tyrant screams and arches back so as to make it impossible to get her buckled in**

6) Getting Angry

MB: OMG. How are you so strong? You are only 19 lbs! I need to go to the gym…You need to GET. IN. YOUR. SEAT.

TB: Nooooooooo!

MB: Mama is getting angry. Look at mama’s face. I need you to get in your seat!

TB: NO!

7) Hand Over Hand Assistance

MB: You had your chance, now mama is going to put you in.

**Wrestles tiny freakishly strong toddler into seat**

TB: Waaaaaaaaa!

Now you can imagine how much worse it is when we aren’t going some place as fun as the zoo. Most days, thankfully, we only get to step 2 (fun game) or 3 (incentives). Some days, we get to 6 (Mama losing it) and 7 (hand over hand assistance)—doesn’t that make it sound like loving guidance? It’s more like trying to wrangle a tiny screaming alligator. But I usually only get to step 7 when someone is waiting for my parking spot and probably judging my parenting. Sigh.

The experience of the Car Seat Wars does make me appreciate the nuance and challenges of trying to change a behavior.  As a school psychologist, when I give behavior modification advice to parents and teachers, I always ask what have they tried already and empathize with the struggle to keep it together while you are teaching a new skill to a kiddo. I acknowledge there are times when the best strategies don’t work. But most times, with consistency, they end up working. The frequency, intensity and duration of the Car Seat Wars are all reducing with my mental behavior support plan for Toddler B. And you can bet that whenever she sits those buns down, we throw a positive reinforcement party. It’s working.

In related news, I am starting a new self-defense program called Toddler-Kwon-Do in which you will learn the strategies of back arching, stiffening your arms and legs, and/or melting into a puddle on the floor. Very effective passive resistance strategies. 

Keep Calm and Just Keep Swimming.

Does anyone remember a show where Bill Cosby sat down with kids and asked them questions and the studio audience laughed as they said the “darndest” things? I remember seeing it in high school and being annoyed at the phrase “darndest.”* But the kids were pretty cute.

As a school psychologist, I get some awesome answers to questions from kids, many of which I can’t post because they are confidential and/or answers to IQ test questions which are secure. I really don’t want the WISC police contacting me, thankyouverymuch. What I can share is a random assortment of metaphors and mantras that my kiddos have come up with over the years that have helped me help other kids. I love metaphors and mantras. I love using the ones kids come up with in counseling sessions to help make sense of things. I throw out all kinds of metaphors and mantras to explain grief, attention problems, friendship issues, behavior control, learning disabilities, you name it. The ones that stick become therapeutic.

So, courtesy of my yoots, here are a few metaphors and mantras that I use regularly:

1)   For Procrastination: “Get it done, then have your fun!”

This one came from a middle school gal who was combating procrastination. I so wish someone had worked with me in middle school on that, so I could have saved myself a ton of late nights in high school and college (and beyond, let’s face it.) We drew “Procrastination Monsters” and talked about what “feeds” them (Facebook is a delicious and common one…). We talk about how to quiet the Procrastination Monster with our thoughts. She came up with “Get it done, then have your fun!” and I have to admit, when writing reports, this has come in handy for me. Take that, P-Monster! Btw, my P-Monster is purple and looks just like the Weight Watchers monster, only instead of dangling donuts, he dangles Pinterest to tempt me.

2)    For Test Anxiety: “Just keep swimming!”

If you haven’t seen Finding Nemo, what is wrong with you? It is the top selling DVD of all time (thanks, Wikipedia). Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to judge. Anyhoo, for those of you who haven’t seen it, there is this fish named Dory, who gives advice to Marlin, a fish who is nervous, to “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.” One of my high schoolers I work with once told me he chants this when he starts to get worry thoughts about finishing tests on time, and it refocuses him. Adorbs, right? I personally have used this in finishing reports, modified to “Just keep writing, just keep writing…” Have we noticed a theme here about me having to write a lot of reports? Sorry newbies, it’s not all P-monsters and clownfishes in this job, there’s a hot mess of paper too. Wheeeee! Just keep writing, just keep writing…

3)    For Self-Esteem: “The Casino Effect”

We all have little friends we work with (and probably some adults too) who are a little down on themselves about their abilities. Working with kids with learning challenges brings out a lot of negative self-statements, like “I’m not smart because everyone finishes their work before me.” These kids are classic “fixed mindset” kiddos, ála Carol Dweck’s theory, in which you believe your talents and abilities are set in stone—either you have them, or you don’t. In that case, you have to prove to yourself over and over again, and are constantly trying to look smart and talented without effort or mistakes.

So I was working with this high school girl at this fancy schmancy high achieving school where many of the kids bragged about not having to work hard (thus, they're smart!). Kids would whip out their A papers and tests to show off their achievements and compare results to others. Girlfriend worked her tail feathers off and got Bs, and felt badly about herself. She didn't understand why she had to work so hard and no one else did. One day, she came into session beaming. She had figured it out! She told me she was watching a TV show in which a woman won a bunch of money at a slot machine. With great fanfare, the machine went off with lights and sounds, balloons fell down from the ceiling, and the woman jumped up and down with joy as everyone looked on. But my gal said she noticed the people in the background were also playing the slots and not saying anything. She deemed it “The Casino Effect”—people don’t brag about when they lose. They say nothing. She reasoned that there were a lot of kids in her class who maybe didn’t do so well, but she never noticed them. She only noticed the “winners” with the A papers. And she didn't know what it really took for them to get that A. It reminds me of a quote I saw on Facebook when I was procrastinating one day: “Don’t compare your behind the scenes work to someone’s highlight reel.” You never know what others had to do behind the scenes to earn success.

So there’s a few goodies to try out in your work with kiddos this week (that is, if you’re not off in Seattle, gallivanting around the NASP conference without me this week). Feel free to share any other mantras or metaphors you have used in working with kiddos. Share the love. After all, it is Valentine’s Day. :)

*Once a grammar nerd, always a grammar nerd. I refuse to use the elliptical machine where I have to stare at the sign with the grammatical error. I spend 30 minutes mentally scratching off the apostrophe in the phrase “Sound is to be turned off on all TV’s except when a major sporting event is on.” Many things are wrong with this, including the apostrophe. First, please don’t assume I like sports and want to hear them, even if it is a “major” event. Secondly, I don’t think golf counts as a “major” sporting event. Please turn Rachael Ray back on so I can go home and ruin the workout I just did by making a buttery risotto.

An Empty Nest in my Heart...

I don’t remember when I first met J. I do remember the last time I saw her alive though. I had worked with her for 3 years, and she was about to graduate from 8^th grade. I was 8 months pregnant and she and her older sister, who I had also worked with, were taking bets on whether or not I was going to have a boy or a girl. I remember vividly her beaming smile, saying, “It’s a girl, Dr. B. I know it!” She will never know she was right. J. was always one of my favorite students. I know we aren’t supposed to have favorites, but there are some kids who just make a little nest in your heart. I always held a special place for J.

She was, by no means, a quiet and compliant girl. She personified sassiness and she spoke her mind. Like many middle school kiddos, she sometimes didn’t know when it was a good time to speak her mind, and she got in trouble. I have always liked working with brazen, saucy young ladies like J. though. I feel they have leadership potential written all over them. As such, she was “nominated” in 6^th grade to be a part of my "Talent Group." She was one of the few girls in my group who demonstrated true empathy for other girls. I remember one day, the whole group, except J., ganged up on this one girl and started telling her off. The girl sat there, quietly crying and J. was the one to stop it. She said, “Guys, think of what it is like for her right now to have everyone gang up on her. I wouldn’t like that and neither would any of you.” I was taken aback at her maturity and expressiveness.

Over the years, J. would breeze in and out of my life at the middle school. I always enjoyed our chats in the hall or at lunch. When she needed more support for her challenges in school, I had the chance to work with her one-on-one and get to know her even better. She loved to dance and jump rope.

J. was shot and killed while walking on the street last Sunday afternoon with a group of friends and her sister. Police believe she was caught in gun crossfire. She was the 12^th young person to be killed by gun violence in my city in 2012. Typically, when I hear news reports of shootings, I hear the age of the victim and wonder if it will be one of my students. This is the first time it was.

On the heels of the Sandy Hook Elementary shooting, this is beyond heartbreaking. It is a sad realization that there are dozens of kids killed by guns in the inner city where I work every year, and in inner cities across the country. And every one of the victims is somebody’s baby. Instead of crawling into a hole of depression and keeping my daughter safe at home for the rest of her life, I am trying to help make change. 

In the period of 2 weeks following the shooting in Connecticut, my Facebook page was filled with posts ranging from outrage and grief to demands for gun control. I had hope that this shooting was the last straw for people and that we would finally take the route of countries like Australia, whose gun control measures have reduced gun-related deaths by over 50%. However, this week, people are posting pictures of their pot stickers they had for lunch and the funny things their co-workers are doing. The outrage and grief may not be gone, but it is fading from our collective attention span. I totally get it. I’d rather think about happy things too. But when mothers and fathers have to live life without their child for no good reason, I think we have a responsibility to act.

And you all know I rarely get political on this blog, but for those who share my desire for gun control, I would like to recommend joining the Facebook Page “One Million Moms For Gun Control.”  They post things you can do if you believe in sensible gun control policies. Like many of you, following the Sandy Hook shooting, I deeply wanted change--more mental health and less guns--, but I only talked about it with my husband and friends. After joining the group, in two minutes, I was able to email my representatives. And each day, I have gentle reminders on my feed that I can do something other than be disgusted that we live in a society where children are gunned down in their homes, streets, and schools.  You don’t have to be a mom to join the group. And it gives me a small glimmer of hope that there are tens of millions of moms in the country that could make an impact. Maybe this group can do what MADD did for raising awareness about drunk driving.

There was only one J. And she will always be in my heart. I wish I had something more profound to say. I just feel heartbroken, once again. Something has to change.