The pilot walked slowly toward us, his face stern. We’d been sitting nervously for 30 minutes. When we arrived at our seats on the plane, my 4-year-old daughter had thrown up.

We’d been on vacation. A magical vacation, until then. A week of princesses, rides, food, and fun. Yet, the pilot didn’t want a kid onboard who’d thrown up. Never mind that she was by then asleep, and just wanted to go home.

“You have to leave the plane,” he told us.

Anger welled in my gut. Maybe, in the post-pandemic world, a 4-year-old spitting up is an act of war.

Things went downhill fast. I asked if our bags could be pulled from the plane. They told me they’d be in the baggage area, so I hurried down. Not our bags. Ours were on the plane, now flying. I asked if our bags could be held at our destination, and was laughed at. I asked if we could book a flight for the next day, and was told the airline doesn’t fly on the weekends. Pulling up Google, I showed them the listing for their flight the next day. The worker said, “Well, I can’t help you.”

Stranded at an airport with two children, no flights to our home airport (which only this tiny, awful airline served) and no clue what to do next.

I am a calm man. As a parent, I’m the silly guy. The guy who loves to do improv theatre with the kids. The guy who makes silly voices and pretends to be a robot or a tree. As a former teacher and occasional substitute, I know how important a thick skin is. I’ve had kids throw things at my face, and managed to keep my cool.

Yet, at that moment, in the Orlando airport, exhausted, and astonished at the poorest service I’d ever experienced, I broke. The pot of water boiled over into a full explosion.

I screamed at the nearest airline worker until I could barely breathe. I don’t even recall what I said. All I wanted was to get my kids home, and at that moment, I felt that I’d failed as a father.

While I essentially threw a tantrum, in a situation completely outside of my control, I saw my 7-year-old son’s face.

He stared at me with these huge, panicked eyes.

And if I wasn’t completely broken before, I was then.

Use an anchor to hold on to better times

Showing emotion in front of your kids is fine. Hell, put on any Pixar movie, and I’ll be crying long before that final scene. But, how could I show him that things would be OK? How could I reassure him, when I had no idea what to do?

There’s no simple answer. But one strategy I’ve used often is what I call the “anchor” approach.

When you’re feeling adrift, search for one, specific “anchor” to ground you.

An anchor is an intensely positive emotional moment. It’s not something nebulous, or imagined, but a memory, preferably something pretty recent. And it’s something that brings immense joy or happiness. In the airport, the anchor was simple, we’d just had an amazing trip to Disney, and focusing on that experience helped us pivot out of despair and into moving forward. I thought specifically about my son’s face after piloting the Millennium Falcon with me on a Star Wars ride. That grin stretched from hemisphere to hemisphere. And as far as my anchor was concerned, the grin was still there, even days later.

An anchor doesn’t need to be a big vacation. I was substitute teaching recently in my daughter’s class. That night, she looked at me with eyes wider than dinner plates and told me I was the best teacher she’d ever had. That love and that intense memory are the types of emotional anchors that can help a parent weather any storm.

No matter what happens in your life, the anchors are there. They’re moments of joy, of pride, of gratitude. The time your spouse gave you an extra kiss for no reason whatsoever, jump-starting your day. The time your boss paid you an unexpected compliment. The student who drew a picture of you with a smiley face.

The anchors are there.

No matter what you’re going through, try as hard as you can to focus on one positive emotional memory. One of my strongest anchors this week was my little girl holding my hand, saying “I love you, Daddy.” Last week, my wife praised me on my new job, and I recall feeling intense pride. Doesn’t matter what the anchor is, hook onto it. Use it. It’s that simple.

Because even when the world is boiling and seething around you, there are anchors.

We did get home from Orlando. A crazy end to an otherwise amazing trip. And I had a long talk with my son, about why Dad lost his temper. About how Dad’s only human, but he’ll try to do better next time.

He responded, with those same big eyes, saying “Yeah … you’re the best, Dad.”

And I added another anchor to my bag.

Photo by Snapwire via Pexels

Ever wonder what American parents could learn from the cultures of non-Western hunter-gatherer communities? Scientist Michaeleen Doucleff did. She reports her findings in her recent book, Hunt, Gather, Parent: What Ancient Cultures Can Teach Us About the Lost Art of Raising Happy, Helpful Little Humans.

Significantly, instead of just studying these cultures, Doucleff and her 3-year-old daughter lived among them. “None of these cultures are ancient relics, frozen in time,” she notes. They are still contemporary families with cellphones and televisions, but they do have “deeply rooted parenting traditions.”

Ancient wisdom from north of the Arctic Circle

From Inuit families above the Arctic Circle, Doucleff learns how to foster young children’s emotional regulation during temper tantrums and misbehavior. The key for parents? Stay calm and quiet as much as possible.

Doucleff describes Inuit parents in these situations in near-robotic terms. “Whenever children are upset — crying and screaming — the parents say very few words (words are stimulating). They make very few movements (movement is stimulating). And they show very little expression on their faces (again, emotion is stimulating),” she writes. “Parents aren’t timid or fearful. They still have a confidence about them. But they approach the child the way you might approach a butterfly on your shoulder: Gently. Slowly. Softly.”

When parents respond with calmness and quiet, “we give the child the opportunity to find that response in themselves,” Doucleff writes. “Over time, this practice teaches the child to regulate their emotions and respond to problems in a calm, productive way.”

When I first read these lines, I thought “no way”! How does a parent remain calm in the storm of an upset child? Doucleff acknowledges it takes much practice, but the long-term result will be worth it.

For example, during a child’s tantrum, “in the calmest, lowest-energy state possible, simply stand near the child, silently, and show them that you are close by, supporting them,” she writes. Upon a child’s misbehavior, try to “keep your expression flat. … look into the horizon above the child’s head or to their side.” As long as there is no imminent danger, try to “stay neutral and show them that you have zero interest in that behavior.”

In metaphoric terms, when parents respond to an angry child with calmness, they refuse to pick up the tug-of-war rope. Rather than yells breeding yells, calm breeds calm, eventually. To model emotional regulation and lower the energy of the situation, Doucleff recommends using imagery in your mind or humming a favorite song.

After calmness returns, the parent and child will be much more able to address the problems causing stress. This “wait-to-fix strategy” might result in a variety of resolutions. Doucleff borrows one idea from psychologist Larry Cohen in which problems are brought “into the play zone.” For example, “you and the child act out, in a lighthearted way, what happens when she won’t go to bed and you get angry or upset.”

Emotional regulation fosters helpfulness, autonomy

Two other ancient cultures Doucleff learns from are Maya families in Mexico and Hadzabe families in Tanzania.

Doucleff notes Maya children are known for their helpfulness, especially regarding household chores. She learned Mayas value toddlers as participants in family life. They invite young children to join them in their work around the house. As she notes, “toddlers everywhere are eager to be helpful — very eager.”

A toddler helping with chores like cleaning, sweeping, and folding laundry can slow parents down and create a mess. However, Mayas view the mess as an investment. “By encouraging the incompetent toddler who really wants to do the dishes now, then over time, they’ll turn into the competent nine-year-old who still wants to help,” she writes.

The children’s participation in meaningful, family-oriented chores makes them feel a sense of belonging. If children are kept from participating, they learn “their role is to play or move out of the way.” They also “will come to learn that helping is not their responsibility.”

The parenting lesson Doucleff learns from the Hadzabe families echoes the ancient Inuit advice: stay quiet as much as possible. Strive for minimal interference with children’s natural development.

Doucleff explains the Hadzabe “parent from a different vantage: they believe children know best how to learn and grow. Anything a parent says — the vast majority of the time — will only get in the child’s way.” She learned that as a parent she needed to “‘wait-a-bit’ before you instruct, direct, or issue a command.” (In fact, in playful fashion, the Hadzabe nicknamed her “Wait-a-bit.”)

Doucleff suggests an experiment for today’s parents: “Take out your phone and set it to record for twenty minutes. Count how many questions, comments, and demands you make to your child during that time.” You may be surprised. Also, try hard to develop children’s autonomy by letting them “order at restaurants, set up after-school activities, settle disputes with friends and, when possible, talk with teachers, coaches, and instructors about successes and mistakes.” If we embrace such a less-is-more, “low-talk parenting style,” we can “join the millions of parents around the world—and across history—who step behind the child, wait-a-bit, and let the child make their own decisions . . . and their own mistakes.”  

Photo: © Odua Images / Adobe Stock.

EDITOR’S NOTE: For more helpful tips on helping teens handle stress, visit The Center for Parent and Teen Communication’s special Managing Stress section.

Let’s scoreboard what my teenagers have been through in the last couple of years.

Pandemic. Virtual schooling. Dating. About 500 emails from the school telling them they’ve been exposed to COVID. Quarantine. PSATs. Three separate school-wide walkouts to protest slurs. And college recruiters asking them about their future.

Oh, and they get no more snow days. That last one just seems mean.

As an adult, that is enough to stress me out daily. But how about my teenagers? How does a teen today deal with a world that is chaotic, loud and confusing?

How to spot teen stress

When I’m stressed, I get angry and want to confront the source of the stress. When my stress contributes to my anxiety, I write snarky articles blaming the everyone in the world for being giant jerks. I also swear a lot. However, that’s not the way stress and anxiety present in a teen.

Dads are often advised to watch for their teenagers pulling away or getting frustrated. Advice like that makes me think the people who wrote it have never dealt with a teenager. To spot stress in your teen, it requires a bit more work.

“You have to engage,” Dr. Jeffery Bernstein, author of The Stress Survival Guide for Teens and 10 Days to a Less Defiant Child, said in an interview with me. “Create a safe space where they feel comfortable talking to you.” 

For me, that brings up visions of cat cafés and chai tea — both things I’d rather not do. I’m more of a dog person.

But I get what he is saying and have practiced it with my own two teenagers. I’ve ditched the “big fatherly talk” where I sit in a regal Victorian chair and have on a dad sweater. Instead, every day I take some time to engage with my teens on their level.

A safe space for talking, listening, observing

My son loves gaming, so I take the time to play with him. Yes, he mops the floor with me, but the point is that I’m there in his environment. This is where we can talk without any extra pressure. With my 15-year-old daughter, it’s scary movies. That time is devoted to her talking about her life.

Conversations come easy when they have the backdrop of something they like, and it gives me a chance to see if they are more withdrawn than usual. My teenagers are more open, forthcoming and honest in these moments.

Often, a teen under stress will verbalize their thoughts in these environments. They don’t know how to deal with the stressors in their lives or that they could even use help. When I am engaged in my kids’ spaces, it opens up those lines of communication. This is what Dr. Bernstein means by creating a safe space.

It’s not just one Ward Cleaver type of moment, but a series of small interactions during the month that last anywhere from 10 minutes to two hours. It’s there that I can help them verbalize rather than to internalize. I like that phrase enough that I’m going to turn it into a bumper sticker now.

Let’s talk coping strategies

Once I know they are stressed, that’s where I struggle as a father. Instinctively, I want to fight their battles.

“Don’t come into it with a fix-it mindset. Lead with empathy,” Bernstein said. “And then use modeling to show them how to cope.”

We need to empower our kids and teach them problem-solving and coping skills. That begins with you. Don’t fight their battles, let them figure out the solution with your guidance. Point them in the right direction of a solution and let them arrive there through their efforts. This will give them ownership of the skill. That ownership will stick with them longer than a lecture.

Sometimes that means that I share their anger and stress. That boy broke your heart? He’s a jerk. That test was hard? Oomph, tell me about it. That then allows me to provide them guidance and perspective based on my experiences. For example, if choosing a college is difficult, then I begin planning small steps with them.

We also have to model better with our own behaviors. When I’m stressed, I swear a lot more. That’s not the best example. A better example would be exercise, eating better, and sticking to a sleep schedule — three things parents the world over are terrible at. But it goes further than that basic cliché advice.

Model your stress management to your teen

We need to share with our children when we are stressed and make it relatable. This is where a lot of fathers fail, including me.

We have it in our heads that as dad, we should be indestructible. We want them to see us the same way they did when they were 3: perfect. They don’t need perfect right now. Our teenagers need reality.

That’s not to mean that we dump a series of adult stresses on them. Instead, Dr. Bernstein states that we should take a coaching approach.

I’ll let my daughter and my son know when I have a deadline coming up that makes me stressed. I’ll usually throw in a joke, but I’ll also let them see my actions. I’m proactive in my solutions. I’ll set a time to get the task done, reward myself when it is done, and then make a plan for the next step.

My kids also see me practice mindfulness. I take 20 minutes a day and run through a program on our VR headset. It helps clear my thoughts and focus on the here and now. As I practice these coping strategies, I’ve talked to my kids about why I’m doing them. That’s how I coach them, and they have begun to adopt some of these strategies.

Keep calm and carry on

Finally, we need help controlling our anger. No one can push our buttons like our teenagers.

“Remove your ego out of the conversation. See it as if you’re watching it from above. Don’t escalate the situation or take it personally,” Bernstein said in our interview.

Easier said than done. But when I speak calmly, I notice my children respond better. And if that’s not working, we all put ourselves into timeout. Timeouts as an adult are awesome.

And if none of the strategies above are working, then it might be time to seek out professional help. Having a third party to talk to may give your teenagers a chance to open up in a way that they can’t with you.

Yes, the world can be a stressful place for adults, and as fathers we need to be aware that our kids share in that stress. Teaching them coping skills is something that they will use for the rest of their life.

And if all else fails, then teach them to swear with the best of them. Don’t put that on me though, I’m stressed enough as it is.

Teen stress photo: ©Rawpixel.com / Adobe Stock.

I’ve tried not to let the death of my father to COVID-19 a year ago change my life too much. I still have to be a husband, a dad, a colleague and a friend but the weight of what happened makes my shoulders stiff and sore. These past few months have been especially difficult. My motivation has been pretty much nowhere to be seen. My patience has been almost nothing. 

In a way, I haven’t completely processed everything that happened during those two weeks in December 2020. As a nation and world, we were fighting through a pandemic that was — and still is — killing so many people. The virus doesn’t care whether you are healthy or not let alone the demographics that we identify with. We’ve continued to fight it since the passing of my father, and I take every day to try and make people aware of the gravity that is COVID. 

In the weeks and months leading up to the month of my father’s passing, I am on the record for saying, “I wear a mask because I don’t want to be the reason I pass this onto your family members, who then pass it to someone who loses a loved one because of it.” I don’t hold any ill feelings toward whomever it was who passed COVID on to my dad. I’m frustrated that there are those who made a choice to not listen to my concerns or those of the people who are studying the virus and how it affects people.

I thought parenting when I had depression was difficult, but it had nothing on trying to be a dad while grieving the death of my own father. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of him and my eyes get a little watery. Each day I step foot into our garage I’m reminded of him. We bought his brand new 2020 Toyota Highlander from his estate. He was so proud of that car and he had some big plans to travel in it and see the world. It’s one of the things that we plan to do to honor him.  

It hasn’t been easy handling my father’s estate either. There are days it’s a full-time job fielding phone calls and signing paperwork. And then there is all of his … stuff. He was the type of person who never would let a piece of paper go. He had checks and bank records dating all the way back to the early 1970s.

My son, Joseph, has asked me several times as we go through my father’s things, “Dad, what are you doing?” Many times, when I explain that I’m going through grandpa’s belongings his response is, “Oh … grandpa died.” It tends to make things worse for me internally. Not only is going through box after box a reminder enough of what happened, but then my youngest reminds me on almost a daily basis.

The where, the how, the crazy that happened during his two-week struggle with COVID-19 no longer matter at this point. What matters to me is I am here for my family. Where I am now, is that I want to show my boys how great their grandfather was. I want them to know how lucky they were to have him. I want them to know that it’s OK to miss him and we need to continue to live out his legacy. 

Parenting through all of this has not been the easiest. I admit my temper spikes at times … and does so rather quickly. I am having a harder time leaving work at the office because it serves as a distraction. When I have a bad day at work, my family can typically tell as I’m more prone to yelling and being generally grumpy with them about some of the littlest things. This happens mostly on the days I’m having a hard time internally working through the death of my father. There are periods of time when I zone out and think about the memories I shared with my dad. And then there are times that I break down in tears for no reason at all. Then there are all the nightmares one has living through the moments that lead up to and after a traumatic event in their life. 

It’s hard for us as men to admit that we are going through a rough time. But when it comes to parenting through the loss of a loved one, it is important to let your kids see you grieve. They need to be able to see that it is OK to be sad and upset. It is just as important for them to see you push through and celebrate the person.

I’m not guaranteeing that it will be any easier moving forward but when I look back at the man that my father was, I strive to be half the man he was. That’s what I want my kids to see. 

A version of this first appeared on The Rookie Dad. Grieving death of father photo: © Rawpixel.com / Adobe Stock.

Humans are animals, bound and acted upon by forces of nature that are, at times, far beyond our control. Something rooted deep inside desires a few, core needs to be filled. It’s this natural and unrelenting reality that makes emptying our homes, shoving our priceless memories into questionable cardboard boxes, and piling them into rickety metal rectangles, so wildly dramatic and stressful.

It shouldn’t be so stressful. It shouldn’t illicit feelings of being displaced, wayward and lost, but it does. Despite my best efforts, my most recent move sent shockwaves through my family of five.

We all know moving sucks, so I’m not special here. We are all going through some shit right now, and mine isn’t particularly more special than yours. My only goal is to encourage you to find the lessons and teachable moments buried in our times of suffering. In these moments, when our kids can feel the tension and sense the stress, we can help shape our children into better humans.

Good news: it’s easier than you think!

I’m no paragon of patience or colossus of calm, but I’ve found a deep breath and 30 second conversations can rescue kids from a total meltdown. If I’m being completely honest, these moments may be just as therapeutic for me.

On moving day, as dads, we are supposed to be the grumpy and sweaty beast of burden. It’s our genetic birthright to embrace this time-honored tradition, but we have an even greater responsibility to always have the welfare of our children as a top priority. We might be so focused on safely transporting the “fra-gee-lay” Italian lamp we received as a major award, that we may fail to notice the increasing anxiety in our children. It’s tempting to ignore what’s happening around us to remain task focused, but as parents we don’t get that luxury.

Soothing conversations we need to have

Here’s an example. While I was carrying boxes out of the house, my 4-year-old son was running between me and the other guys. I had already barked at him to stop, and I had expressed frustration with my wife for her not keeping my son in check. Now, for the third time, my son was being obnoxious on purpose. I could see his defiance. This wasn’t clueless goofing off. He was trying to impede our progress on purpose. I filled my lungs with air to awaken the thunderous dad voice of discipline only reserved for special occasions. However, instead of yelling at him, I set my box down. I lowered myself to eye level. Letting out my breath slowly, ignoring the back pain, ignoring the knee pain, ignoring the existential pressure of moving, and money, and pandemic, and political nonsense, I quietly asked, “What’s going on, buddy?”

I won’t share these private words between father and son because it’s unnecessary. All I did was let him speak. I answered his questions. I thanked him for talking to me, and he didn’t bother us again. This worked because over the years I have built a foundation of 30-second conversations upon which this 30-second conversation could rest. My son doesn’t have memories of dad spitting fire and venom. Instead, he has memories of a dad taking a breath, taking a knee, and taking a moment to listen.

It’s easy to be angry. It’s easy to wield the hammer, but being a parent isn’t easy. I encourage you to begin building your own foundation rooted upon the bedrock of 30-second patient, understanding, and loving conversations.

Also, I’m never moving again.

Ever.

Photo: © Prostock-studio /  Adobe Stock.

Running is my time to think about everything and, eventually, nothing. Finding Zen in those moments makes my early mornings stuffing lunch sacks through my late nights up with a sick kid, all worth while. It’s not that I run out of things to think about — it’s getting to that place where I am thinking solely about the NOW. How do my knees feel?

Is that left calf loosing up or is it still tight and messing with my stride?

Look, that lime green light seems to bounce off the pool of water next to the trail!

I tend to be a reflective person by nature, finding Zen whenever and wherever I can. Looking back and learning from my mistakes is common practice for someone who makes a lot of mistakes. It makes me feel better about going forward and not making the same mistakes twice. Well, definitely not three times.

This particular time in my life, I have a lot to think about. My birthday being close to Father’s Day offers a unique challenge for retrospection. Before children, my birthday was a time to think back on the year and what changes I wanted to make moving forward. Father’s Day was a time to think about my dad and celebrate all of his accomplishments.

That all changed years ago when I first became a father. Now, when mid-June rolls around, not only do I get to think back on what kind of a person I am, but I also get to ponder about what kind of a dad I am.

Oh, joy.

The heat had finally broken here on the East Coast and I was about three miles into a five mile loop. I was deep in thought, not quite to finding Zen yet, but close. I was still thinking through the tough morning we had trying to get everyone up and moving.

It is difficult to move quickly when you are 5 years old. The concept of being late is still foreign to the young pre-K student we have living with us. She is a “stop and smell the roses” kind of girl. I love her to pieces. But she needs to learn about at least making it appear that she is trying to move quickly or her poor old dad will lose his poor old mind. Seriously. Mix this morning with the fact that I just turned the big 4-0 (thank you) and you have the makings of a deep, introspective run.

Back to Mile Three …

I was looking forward to this afternoon when I could sit down with my daughter and talk about why I was so angry and why I yelled at her this morning. It was really eating me up. My first day as a 40 year old and I have already yelled at my sweet little one because I slept in and ignored the alarm. It was unfair to her, and I knew it.

That’s when I saw the dog, off-leash, running toward me. This is nothing new. People break the leashed dog rule all the time. I generally stop running, wait for the owner to apologize, give them a few choice words, and head on my way. But this time was different. The dog owner was very concerned about me not moving until he caught up to us.

“I don’t trust this dog,” he yelled.

Well, that’s good! Let him run free then, why don’t you?

He finally made it in between me and this snarling mutt that didn’t seem too happy with the fact that I was enjoying a nice run toward his owner. I assumed the dog had no ideas on how to talk to my daughter about the stresses of being late in the morning or how learning to wake up early and be prepared for life is a good quality.

“I’m so sorry, didn’t think we would see any …”

That was the moment when I felt the strength of the dogs jaw clamp down on my big cushy ass.

“OW! Hey, what the f@*! man!” I screamed in pain.

“Are you OK? I’m so sorry! Are you bleeding?” he said.

I pulled down my running shorts to reveal a nice row of small bruises forming. No blood.

“What if I had my kids? What if they got bit in the face? Keep your dog on the leash!”

We stared at each for a few moments, his dog still growling. My instincts told me it was time to go. I turned, giving one last farewell involving a few more choice words, and continued through the empty woods.

I was still in shock with what just happened when I stopped to look at the bite again.  It wasn’t that bad but still, a bite is a bite. It hurt like hell. I had to finish my route not only because I wanted to keep running, but I needed to get back to the car.

Then it happened.

My mind was clear. I was in that Zen place.

I was thinking about the bruise forming on my posterior and the heart rate that was finally coming back to normal. More importantly, I was immediately thankful.  Thankful I didn’t have to go to the hospital. Thankful my kids were not mauled by a dog in the woods. Thankful I was a dad. Thankful I was able to keep running and now it’s just a story to be exaggerated at a later time by yours truly. Thankful to be alive.

The dog brought me into the NOW.

Happy Father’s Day to all the other dads living in the now.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Bryan Grossbauer is an actor, musician, former teacher and full-time stay-at-home dad to two children. A member of our NYC Dads Group, he and his family live in New Rochelle and enjoy traveling, hiking, and live music. A version of this piece first appeared on his blog, Dig it, Daddy-O.

Finding zen on the trail photo: © kovop58 / Adobe Stock.

Somehow, I ended up arguing with my oldest child about doughnut holes. Again.

My three kids and I were driving to my mom’s house late on a Sunday morning. As is tradition during our hour-long drive, we swung into the drive-thru to pick up coffee for me and a treat for the kids to share. After collecting the bounty, I always pass the cup of doughnut holes to the kids in the back seat and they fight like a pack of agitated badgers over whose turn it is to hold the cup and dole out the contents. Holder of the cup is the highest of honors, so a fair amount of squabbling and thrashing is to be expected. It’s tradition.

Shortly after we pulled back onto the road, my oldest, who was seated between his two younger siblings, let out a wail. I assumed it was fallout from the cup holder death match, but I was wrong. It was something much worse.

The kids had determined it was my oldest son’s turn to be in charge of meting out the chocolate glazed, and he had dropped them onto the floorboard. I took a quick glance back to see a handful of delicious spheres trundling around on the dirty, fuzzy floor.

In the midst of his crying, I asked my oldest child why he had dropped the cup. I didn’t ask this dumb question because I was upset. I asked because I was still peeved at him for taking what seemed like hours to get into the car before we left the house, and I wanted to be snarky.

Of course, this only made things worse. A full-on meltdown commenced.

Now, I’m typically pretty good at staying calm and cool in such situations. Or at least as calm and cool as can reasonably be expected for someone who is isn’t a Zen master or Billie Eilish. I turned the music up a few notches, focused on the road, and mentally prepared to ride it out.

However, the ruckus didn’t stop. In fact, it kept getting worse. Until finally, I snapped.

I raised my voice more than I normally do — I have a particular aversion to raised voices, so I try to avoid raising mine whenever possible — and told my son to calm down or we were going home. I then flipped my turn signal on dramatically, because there is nothing quite like slamming on a turn signal to show someone who’s boss, and turned onto a side street at the next stoplight.

Best parenting moments, worst ones part of same fabric

Not surprisingly, things got even louder and more screechy at this point. I kept trying to pontificate over my child’s protestations, but nothing was getting through.

And then my younger son’s voice cut right through the noise.

“Daddy, he just needs a few minutes to calm down,” he said. “He needs to breathe, and he’ll be OK.”

The noise level in the car dropped dramatically, my older son started to catch his breath, and I wallowed in a pool of shame and misery.

I remember an old song called “Nice Guys Finish Last” was playing over the car sound system as we turned back onto the main road toward my mom’s house. I was definitely finishing last in that moment, but I did not at all feel like a nice guy.

After a few minutes of driving in relative quiet, things returned to normal. My oldest son relented and ate the final two doughnut holes that had remained in the cup during The Great Doughnut Hole Spill of 2020.

I reached back and patted his leg and apologized for getting upset. I reminded him that while he didn’t react the right way, I certainly didn’t either. And that we all get upset sometimes; we just have to do our best to learn how to handle it.

He grabbed my arm and leaned forward to press his wet face to the back of my hand.

As I reflected on the incident later, I thought back to what my younger son said to bring us out of our collective tailspin.

“Daddy, he just needs a few minutes to calm down. He needs to breathe, and he’ll be OK.”

It sounded very familiar because I have heard myself say almost those exact words more times than I can count in the last half decade. I guess they have been listening!

Which just goes to show, when it comes to parenting, there are good days and bad days and great moments and terrible ones. There are times when you react just the right way to whatever your child throws at you (literally or figuratively). There are days when you go on family bike rides and eat healthy foods. And then there are days when you turn on the screens, hole up inside, eat ice cream for breakfast, and try to stay out of each other’s way.

We are not defined by our worst parenting moments any more than we are defined by our best. Best and worst are threads in the same tapestry. They weave together and cross over in intricate and unexpected ways to create one whole that is all the more beautiful because of its imperfections.

In those difficult times — the tantrums, the heated exchanges of cross words, the mistakes we know we’re making even in the moment — it’s important to remember that the distance from your worst parenting moment to your best isn’t as far as it seems.

What you really need to do is find a few minutes to calm down. And breathe. And try to never, ever get into an argument with your child about doughnut holes.

Photo: © Konstantin Yuganov / Adobe Stock.

“PLEASE GET YOUR SHOES ON! I’ve asked you five times, and if you don’t get them on RIGHT NOW, I’m leaving you home alone by yourself!”

It seems those words come out of my mouth once, maybe twice a week while we go through the morning routine. Throw in a “damn” here and there, and it might be more accurate. At some point in one’s parenting career, we all experience these feelings.

Before you start to call the authorities, no — I would never leave my son home alone. It’s one of those empty promises we offer our children so that they do what we are asking of them. If you don’t do this too, please tell me how you prevent the situations like above from happening.

It doesn’t stop at shoes either. It can be either listening to what I’m asking my son to do, or not do. At times, I wonder if we need to have my oldest son’s hearing checked but then I remember that he is the child who can hear a bag of chips being opened from down the block when he is playing with his friends.

As quickly as the frustration inside of me comes, it leaves. Then, a feeling of sorrow inside of me hits.

I start to wonder how I could yell at my son in the way that I did. Did he understand why? Does he know that if he had just done things right the first time, he wouldn’t have to be doing it again? Does he understand how much it pains me to sound like my parents?

I ask myself those questions because, more often than not, I am the one having difficulty remembering he is only 7 years old. He is just a kid. It is up to me to teach him that getting angry and yelling does not get you anywhere in life.

Like the time I was cleaning out our new car and I came across blue slime stuck to the floorboard. It had somehow escaped the plastic bag someone had brought it home in. Someone had stepped on the bag … and out it came. It would have been easy to be frustrated with my son even though it might not be his fault. Not completely. He had stepped on the bag, causing the contents to ooze out, but it was an accident. I had left the bag sitting there for a while and should have been the one to take it out of the car.

There was no reason for me to be upset with him. The slime, despite being stuck to the floorboard, wasn’t hurting anyone and eventually could be cleaned up. But I blew up any way.

It took a few minutes, but I gathered myself, sat down next to him and said, “William, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I know it wasn’t your fault and I was just frustrated that we just bought this car and now there is this blue slime on the floor. I’m sorry.”

Even though he told me that it was OK, I knew that I hurt him. But I also knew my ability to say “I’m sorry” was just what he needed to hear so that he pushes past everything. Part of it is my conscience. I know that I was in the wrong, even though it took me a bit to realize it.

I come by saying I am not a perfect parent honestly. Being able to say I’m sorry to my family for the numerous times I’ve screwed up is the one area of my life that I feel like I am getting right. When I tell William I am sorry for getting frustrated with him, he starts to understand that not only do I feel bad about what I have done or said but that even though I am not going to get it right every time, I am going to try to better. And, until I can make no mistakes, I am going to be sure to always say I’m sorry to my son.

A version of this first appeared on The Rookie Dad. Photo: © Tatyana Gladskih / Adobe Stock.

You know how it goes: Even the smallest disagreements with your teen can turn into yelling, doors slamming, feelings hurt and evenings ruined. But there’s a trick to preventing these regular altercations from escalating.

Ask your teen if they actually enjoy what’s happening during the fight.

Most of the time, they don’t feel good about it, so they’ll redirect their anger before it gets out of hand. Let me break down how this works to end any argument.

End any argument with this question

The ultimate phrase that will end any argument in its track is, “Do you like where this is going?”

Your teenager will be caught off guard by this question, even if they have Oppositional Defiant Disorder, a condition in which children are uncooperative, defiant and hostile toward peers, parents, teachers, and other authority figures. This question totally breaks down whatever you were fighting about and makes the disagreement about something different: it makes it about the fight itself.

When to use this trick to stop disagreements

This question that shuts down arguments has to be used at the right time to be effective. If you can resolve a fight before it escalates, you might not even have to use it at all. But when you feel the tension rising and the fight becomes more emotional and personal, you can use it as a trump card.

Say you’re arguing with your teen because they missed curfew. It might go something like this:

“Mom, this is totally unfair! I was only 15 minutes late and it wasn’t even my fault! There was an accident on the highway!”

“Yes, but you were 15 minutes late yesterday, too, and the night before that, so clearly something needs to change. You know what we agreed would happen if you were late like this!”

“Just let me stay out later and then it won’t be a problem!”

“It’s not my job to let you do whatever you want, and it’s not fair to make me stay up an extra hour later every night to make sure you make it home in one piece!”

“You never trust me to do anything!”

Stop. You’ve had this argument before and you know where it’s going. And your teen knows where it’s going, too. Now it’s time to pull out the decisive question to end any argument:

“Do you like where this is going? Because I don’t. This isn’t fun for me. We’ve had fights like this enough times that we both know what’s coming next, and I don’t like it. Tell me, do you like it? Do you enjoy what happens next?”

Suddenly your teen is disarmed. You’re not fighting about curfew anymore, and a lot of the energy diffuses. You’ve shifted the argument to, “Do you like fighting?” I would bet that neither you or your teen particularly enjoy screaming at each other at 11 p.m., so there’s a good chance your teen might say that they don’t like it either.”

Success! You’re on the same page. You’ve both admitted to each other that you want a way to resolve the fight, not escalate it. Now it’s time to make amends.

After the fighting stops

After you and your teen have stopped arguing, you can work on finding a solution to your conflict.

You can talk about compromise, change the topic by being inspirational, ask your teen what their ideal solution would be, or decide to walk away and talk about it in the morning. Either way, the fight is over and you can both get some sleep.

You and your teen will be driven to come up with a working solution to your conflict because the alternative is more anger, shouting, and pain. And you’re over that. Whether it’s about curfew, clothing, or cannabis, you and your teen can use this technique to decide to move past the fight and into the compromise.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Andy Earle is a researcher who studies parent-teen communication and adolescent risk behaviors. He is the co-founder of talkingtoteens.com and host of the Talking to Teens podcast, a free weekly talk show for parents of teenagers.

“End any argument” © karagrubis  / Adobe Stock.

Think back to your childhood. Do you remember your father’s (or mother’s) angriest moment as a parent? Chances are it’s replaying in your mind right now in vivid detail. That’s because raw anger, while sometimes useful for action, often results in dramatic, destructive and regrettable parenting.

As a father of teenagers, I’ve had my share of parenting moments, usually involving a disciplinary situation, when I could have used some intervention. But I’ve also learned a few things about anger management along the way. My first tip would be to think of parental anger as a three-stage process: before, during and after. Fortunately, there are ways to prepare for each stage that can reduce anger and improve family life.

Anger management: The “before” stage

The best way to avoid destructive anger is to prevent it. For example, we know hunger and lack of sleep can make all children (and adults) irritable. But also remove other triggers in your home as much as possible. As our children got older, morning battles decreased when we added time to our routines; junk food disputes decreased as we loaded the refrigerator with healthier food; and cell phone battles decreased when we subtracted time from their allowed use.

None of these changes were quick and painless, but gradually they reduced flare-ups. In all cases, however, be sure your expectations of your children’s behavior are appropriate and unrelated to any of your own pet peeves.

Anger management: The “during” stage

Admittedly, the approaching-out-of-control stage of anger is much harder to navigate. One place to start might be a warning system. When my kids were very young and I felt my anger rising, I would half-joke: “Last chance to deal with Nice Daddy instead of Angry Daddy.” Surprisingly, that sometimes headed off a confrontation.

Another tool for stopping anger from growing comes from the classic parenting book, How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish. The authors recommend avoiding a long, well-rehearsed rant about any issue by summarizing it “in one word.” For example, if your child has not cleaned his or her dishes for the hundredth time, you simply state: “Dishes!” (I also used “Jacket!” and “Seat belt!” in a loud voice when needed.) This technique prevents you from bringing unrelated, self-esteem damaging labels into the charged situation; the one word keeps the focus on the behavior, not the child.

Finally, if your anger escalates to a dangerous degree, have a go-to last resort that avoids an emotionally (or physically) damaging response. Granted, sometimes you have to take action for safety’s sake, but beyond that try to find a de-escalation technique that works for you. I used timeouts more for me than for my kids, but they helped me cool off. Some people use “time ins” and try to reconnect with their child; others go silent for a time. Whatever you develop, the goal is to avoid regrettable action that could become a searing, long-term memory for your child. (Please note that if you are having serious trouble controlling your anger as a parent, consider seeking professional help.)

Anger management: The “after” stage

Although it occurs last, the “after” stage might be the most important. Assuming there’s been no irreversible damage, this stage allows a parent the chance to model forgiveness, self-acceptance, and how to make amends. Who doesn’t love a “do over,” right? After a heated moment recedes, plan some quiet time with your child (or a calm family meeting) to discuss what happened and why you became angry. Brainstorm together how such a situation might be avoided in the future. Modeling how to navigate anger and its aftermath will help children develop self-discipline for the rest of their lives.

When we think back to our parents’ angriest moments during our childhood, we realize now that deep inside they were probably also struggling with the many invisible stressors of adulthood. But at the time, all we saw on the outside was their raw, unproductive anger. Try to remember that the next time your child angers you.

Photo by mohamed Abdelgaffar from Pexels