"Parenting by Intention"
Reprinted from Mothering Magazine, USA

• Unhappiness is out of their control (that's why I have to save them);
• Unhappiness is powerful as a tool to motivate Mom, Dad, and others (throw a tantrum at a crowded checkout line and you get a candy bar to keep you quiet);
• Unhappiness is a sign of caring (crying about your broken doll demonstrates how much you loved it).

In the end, our distress with our children's discomfort reinforces the belief that unhappiness is not only appropriate, but, perhaps, even a preferred response in many situations. Inadvertently, we model and teach misery rather than inner ease and comfort. If a child at a family gathering is smiling, everybody walks by him or her unmoved. If, on the other hand, a child begins to yell and cry, the adults present, in an effort to save this youngster from their discomfort, will be drawn like ants to an anthill. An observant child would rightly conclude that ranting and raving gets far more attention than playing happily. That child would gain significant insight into the ways of the world: If you want to move the universe, show distress.

I saw this demonstrated clearly one day when my family waited patiently at a supermarket checkout line during the rush of holiday shopping. Although many shoppers appeared blank-faced, more than the usual number smiled at one another, A moderately festive mood prevailed until a two-year-old girl, sitting in the seat of her mother's shopping cart, began screaming loudly.

People turned to see what problem had arisen. The child apparently wanted some potato chips that were inside the cart, but her mother had refused. In response, she protested with loud noises, tears, a flushed face, and kicking. Her mother, somewhat embarrassed, maintained her position, trying to calm her daughter with quiet words. The child escalated her antics. By now, people in almost every line watched. Some grimaced, their disapproval obvious. Others gave the child sympathetic glances. One woman leaned over the shelves in her aisle and demanded the mother do something - anything immediately.

Suddenly the store's Santa Claus appeared. He searched through the crowds of people for the screaming child. Once he sighted her, he pushed through several lines, shouting his "Ho! Ho! Ho!" As soon as he reached her, he put a candy cane in her hand. The little girl stopped screaming immediately and smiled broadly through her tears. As she opened the candy wrapper, surrounding adults watched approvingly. An older woman kept nodding her head, saying, "Good." Some people applauded. One man proclaimed, "Santa saved the day."

My 13-year-old daughter watched the event with great fascination. She looked up at me and laughed. "Santa didn't save the day; he just taught that little girl that if you scream and cry, you get candy. Now, I'll bet when she goes to the next store, she'll do the same thing."

We attempt to save our children from their unhappiness as a way to love them, but in so doing, we actually teach them to use discomfort as a manipulative tool. If we could be really comfortable when our children seemed unhappy, then we might find that they chose it less often. We could, instead, say to them lovingly and sincerely, "You can be sad or angry about that if you want, and I would love to talk with you about what you've experienced. But your screaming, whining, and nagging is not going to motivate me in any way." In our home, playing the nagging game does not get my children results or help them get their needs met. Thus, acting in that way makes little sense to them.

Contrastingly, when a child or adolescent experiences sadness (for example, if a favorite doll is broken or when someone dies), being comfortable in the face of their feelings can be so useful. I have a greater capacity to be loving if I am happy and at ease, even when my children are sad. They are more apt to share their deepest feelings with me because they aren't afraid that they will cause me pain or discomfort.

Principle Number Two
I don't owe my children anything.

This second principle may sound as odd as the first; however, let me explain. Most parents feel a deep sense of obligation to their children. They not only believe that they should provide food, shelter, health, and safety, but also that they should buy little red bicycles, space-age Walkmans, trendy clothes, and a college education. How wonderful if parents want to provide such objects and opportunities for their child. Certainly, I would encourage those who are excited to present a wealth of goodies to do so, not because they believe they're supposed to, but because they truly want to. If we only did what we wanted to do as parents, the nature of our parent-child relationship would be radically transformed; children are amazing students of the beliefs of our culture and those of their parents. They understand immediately when they're two, three, four, and five years old that their parents are on the supply side of the relationship (the child asks for what they want, and the parent promptly delivers). The message the child receives: Mom and Dad keep providing because that's their job. They owe me. By their actions, the parents unwittingly become cocreators of such a lopsided relationship.

As a result, children may fail to learn about gratitude. They may fail to develop a deep sense of appreciation for all that's provided for them, even if it's minimal, through the efforts and energy of well-intended parents. In some way, we cheat our children from perceiving as gifts what the universe gives them, what their culture gives them, what their community gives them, and what we personally give them. We often base our parenting on obligation rather than on choosing to deliver only what we truly want to.

I'd like to illustrate the foregoing with an example from my own parenting. I had always tried to teach my children that education was an honor to be earned, not the birthright of all, even those with little interest in learning. About a decade ago, both of my older daughters were graduating from high school, intending to continue their education at college.

One daughter had applied herself diligently to her studies and earned excellent grades. In addition, she had dedicated herself to dance and wished to enter a choreographic arts program. Could we help her financially to achieve her goal? After much discussion, my wife and I enthusiastically expressed our wish to fully support our daughter's demonstrated commitment to learning.

In contrast, my other daughter had moved through her high school years without putting out much energy or effort, applying herself minimally in order to complete her course work. Since many of her friends were continuing their education, she, too, planned to attend college. When she asked for our financial support, we decided that her lackadaisical attitude and performance in high school warranted serious review. Our conclusion: We would pay for a part of her tuition but requested that she earn a substantial portion for herself as a way to demonstrate that she truly wanted to learn. At first, my daughter became angry in the face of our position. We pointed out that her focus on what we wouldn't provide undermined her appreciation for the part we were willing to offer. I remember that night very clearly. After we had explained our intentions, she looked at us, astounded, and then quietly left the room. Five years later she explained to me how that event had had a profound impact on her life. For the first time, she had to take significant responsibility for what she wanted. As a result of paying for part of her education, she became a far more motivated and successful student. We gave only what we wanted to give, and trusted that our children would grow from that.

My own father was aghast at the apparent inequity of our decision. He believed we "owed" our children a college education. Obviously, we did not concur. He continued to protest. "How could you treat one child differently from the other?" He noted, with pride, that every time he had purchased a gift for one of his three children, he had always purchased an identical or similar item for the others. I call this "abstract parenting." In effect, if one of us had consistently lent others a helping hand, while the second sibling had been a thief and the third an arsonist, we would still all have received the same provisions, no matter what we had done. It occurred to me, as I explained our decision to my dad, that I didn't see the world in terms of an abstract equity that obligated me to provide for each of my children in the exact same way. I made a moment-to-moment decision to do what I reasoned would be responsive to each of my children as separate and individual. Where is it written that everyone gets the same, regardless of their choices and actions? I want to support love, caring, respect, and hard work. By giving thoughtfully and consciously, I may be more likely to increase those desirable results in the universe.

Though I strongly affirm that I don't owe my children anything, I do not mean that parents shouldn't provide and share their bounty with their children. I suggest, however, that we see our provisions as gifts, amazing gifts, provided in a give-and-take relationship of love. No "shoulds" here. As gift givers, we would probably feel far more excited to supply whatever we chose to supply, while our children, as receivers, would have a completely different experience of the exchange - one that's far more respectful, honoring, and appreciative. You win. The child wins. The relationship grows deeper and more loving.

Principle Number Three:
I don't spend any more time with my children than I want to. Caring parenting, loving, powerful, and effective parenting have nothing to do with time. Many parents have deeply held beliefs that when their children are infants, toddlers, adolescents, teenagers, they are supposed to spend a certain number of hours per day or per week with them.
They believe that time spent directly with children will naturally have a favorable impact on their development.

After completing the program, she later shared a wonderful experience with me. She explained that when she returned home, her house looked like an unkempt college dorm, with dirty dishes, plates of uneaten food, and soiled laundry everywhere. At first she felt the muscles in the back of her neck tighten; her mind became cluttered with judgments and irritation.

Then she reminded herself that in the workshop she had decided to make love the number one priority with her children.

As she approached their bed rooms, she committed herself to feeling and acting out her new intentions. She could feel her body relax as she encountered her daughter and said, "Hi, honey! It's so good to see you." In spite of the situation, she opened her arms and gave her teenager a hug. She reported the wonder of the internal experience she had given herself, never once focusing on the state of affairs in the bedroom.

When her son entered the room, she turned and greeted him, too, with an affectionate embrace. Her son smiled and said, "Wow, it sure looks like that program was good for you!"

She smiled, "Yes, I had a wonderful time." As she walked out of the room, she stopped, looked around, and said, "Look, I'm wondering if you could do me a favor. I would really appreciate it if you could spend the next hour or two cleaning up the house."

Her son, whom she had described previously as resistant and a bit foul-mouthed, looked at her casually, smiled, and said, "Sure, Mom." Then he proceeded to pick up a shirt lying on the floor, folded it carefully, and started a neat pile of clothing. Mom was flabbergasted. Usually her children resisted her. However, she noted that when she made love the number one priority, not only did she have a completely different experience with her children, but she inspired a different response from them.

Intention No. 2
Be really present with our children.

Many parents half-listen when their children speak. That doesn't reflect a lack of caring. Most of us half-listen to our partners, our coworkers, and our lovers, as well. As a result, we miss the subtle nuances and cues expressed by our sons and daughters. And we don't give them a chance to fully know and understand us.

All discomfort and distress is the result of a regret about the past or a worry about the future. Most of us have never been educated to attend to the present moment.

In interacting with our children, my wife and I focus on being present. We do it in a way that is quite exciting. I believe that God lives in details. That means to me that when we are truly present, we can see God in our children.

What would happen if we recalled that experience we gave ourselves when we first held our infant sons and daughters, who might now be 10, 14, or 18? Perhaps they want to borrow our car, shave their head, pierce a ring through their nostril, or cut holes in their jeans. Do we look at these teenagers and think, "Wow, this is God, this is the blessing of the universe"? Or are we more likely to exclaim, "My God, don't pierce your nose! Please, could you put another pair of pants on? And why do you want that ridiculous hairdo?" We have so many expectations and agendas for our children! They cloud our ability to see and appreciate their uniqueness and originality. Being present is the key to truly enjoying the moment-to-moment events of parenting.

Express and teach gratitude.

The power of appreciation comes through actions. Feeling gratitude creates a wonderful internal experience; expressing it allows us to feel the full bloom of appreciation. Most significant would be our willingness, on a moment-to-moment basis, to find some aspect of every person and event to appreciate and then find a tangible way to express our gratitude. Again, what we do is what we teach.

Several times a year, our family participates in what we call an informal gratitude exchange. Each of us takes the time to consider what we most appreciate in the other members of our clan. One by one, we express our appreciation using specific examples. Often we anchor these expressions with a smile, a hug, or sometimes even a tear.

We have another tradition in our family. Before leaving for a trip to give a lecture or workshop in another city, state, or country, I check in with each of my children. I update my love and appreciation for them in words and gestures. In this way, if by chance those moments turned out to be my last with them, I would feel a sense of completion.

Parenting is a creative and evolving process, so the principles and intentions we create today might give way to new and innovative perspectives tomorrow. As we create a platform on which to stand, we don't have to make it rigid or inflexible. Love has many models and infinite pathways through which it can be expressed.

Oftentimes, we have the internal awareness of loving our children, but our words and actions do not display that love. In fact, our expressions of distress and discomfort communicate disapproval. Our actions teach our children about our values and concerns. When we express love, we teach love. When we express anger, we teach anger. We can never be diminished by loving our children, even when they might not be expressing love to us.

End: Barry Neil Kaufman's 10th book, Out-Smarting Your Karma, 1996, and bestseller Happiness Is A Choice are now available in bookstores or by phone at 1-800-562-7171. The Option Institute, in Sheffield, Massachusetts, offers year-round programs for individuals, couples, groups, and families. A free information packet is available. Call 1-800-71-HAPPY, E-mail:Contact Us, or Internet: http://www.option.org.

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