Long NVC'ish Dialogue -- Get Yo'self A Cuppa Tea...

We bit into a fabulous dilemma today. A family friend expressed to the boys that he feels annoyed when he hears their voices dive into a whine pitch (they both understood from the example what he spoke to), and he asked if they would be willing to express themselves in a different tone of voice.

Sam said he understood what he was being asked to do and was willing. Trinidad bowed his head in silence, and then slowly melted until his head nearly touched the floor, lower lip hanging. I went to check in, quietly, but he avoided me and asked for some space in his room. In my history of parenting this child, I have not yet seen him respond like this.

Trinidad refused empathy, and returned quietly to the room when he was ready for a group story. After the story, he and our friend reconnected in wild physical play, but I knew that the work had only begun. After awhile, I translated our friend's request into feelings and needs (unsure whether he had; I'd been out of the room in the middle of the discussion), and then Trin told me that he had felt sad to hear what K-- had to say.

"Why is that?" I asked.

"Because I don't know how to speak any other way when I am sad or angry," he said. "That's just me, and I don't want to change who I am. I would rather have no friends than do that."

I saw how much this meant to him. "You really want to be authentic when you express yourself -- is that right?"

"Yeah. And it's just me. I like K-- , but I just want to be me, too."

We talked about meeting some needs -- authenticity, self-connection -- while watching others not be met -- connection, fun, contribution. He felt so sad, hopeless even, to imagine so many needs unmet. I breathed into it, holding the space for mourning.

Two hours later, walking in the sun, I reframed it. "So. I hear that K-- has needs for choice and connection up and you would like to be authentic about how you express yourself. That is a dilemma. Hmmm. Somehow it sounds less dismal when I just focus on the needs. Does it seem that way to you?"

"Yeah!" he said.

"So, our job is to find a strategy that holds everyone's needs."

"I don't think we can," he said, after a moment. Tears welled in his eyes.

"Mmmm. When you think that, I bet you feel sad," I said. I opened my heart to hold the space.

"Yeah. I don't want K-- to be annoyed, and I want to just be me."

"Mmm. So, I wonder if there are any other ways to meet your needs for authenticity besides whining."

"I don't think so," he said.

"Oh! I have an idea. What if you expressed yourself by saying how you feel and what needs are up for you? Would that be doable?"

"Yeah, but I'd probably still whine."

"You might, but you'd be taking responsibility for how you feel, and I'm guessing that that would be a big contribution to K--. When you whine, he's often hearing what you are asking for as a demand, so here's another idea: you could let him know that what you are asking for is a request and not a demand. Do you know the difference?"

"Well, kind of."

"It's like this," I told them. "If I ask you to set the table and you tell me 'no,' and I say, 'Well, I want you to set it anyway. Because I said so,' then that would be a demand."

"Hey!" said Trinidad. "A lot of other mothers tell their kids to do something, and when their kids ask 'why?' they say 'Because I said so.' I think they say it because they don't really know why either."

"Have you ever heard me say 'Because I said so' to you?" I asked, prepared for the worst. :)

"No, you haven't."

"You know why? Because I heard it so much from my parents when I was young (and I didn't like it), that I vowed to never say that to you. I make no guarantees about the future, but I want to celebrate right now that you don't remember me saying it in your eight years. Hurray." We smiled at each other. "And I think you're right: the parent who says that probably does not want to take the time or energy to check in with what needs are behind it. They might be tired and just wanting ease and to get the job done."

"Yeah, that's what I think, too."

"Anyway," I said, "if I hear your 'no' and then decide to share my needs that would be met by you doing it and make the request again [I gave example], then you might shift and agree to. Or, I might decide to do it myself."

"Or eat without forks that night," offered Trinidad, in the spirit of limitless possibility.

"Yup. The point is, I could work with your 'no' and find other ways to hold both our needs. Do you think you could make it clear to K-- that you are making a request, not a demand?"

"Yeah, I think I could," said Trinidad.

"You know, even if you whine to do it, I'm guessing that would really meet his needs for autonomy, because he would know he was in choice about it, and that's the big problem."

"Yeah!" said Trinidad.

The kids shifted their attention to walking on the edge of curbs and after about ten minutes, I offered this: "You know, an interesting thing might happen if you own your own feelings and needs when you're upset. You might well speak it in some other tone of voice than a whine." I paused and noticed Trinidad watching me intently. "Because," I went on, "a whine is that tone of voice we often use when we think we are helpless -- that our happiness depends on someone else."

"You're right!" said Trinidad. "How did you know that?"

I laughed. "Because I've given it some thought. So, just the act of owning your own feelings and needs will probably make it easier to make a true request, easier for that request to connect and for everyone to feel in their power, even if they are disappointed with the answer to that request."

"Yeah!" said Trinidad, beaming.

"So, I have an idea. And this would really meet my needs for teamwork and mutuality in our family, too. Would you guys be willing to practice expressing your feelings and needs at various times throughout the day when we are not upset, just for practice?"

"Sure," they both said, and we did it right then. Both were remarkably eloquent in their expressions, despite the fact that they have often claimed to be clueless as to what feelings and needs were in the past (what is it about the cobbler's children being ill-shod?). Apparently, this conflict offered them new motivation. I expressed my own needs met!

We have checked in on feelings and needs twice more this afternoon. (Interesting aside: When Sam expressed that he was happy with a need for peace met, he insisted on whispering it in my ear, afraid that saying it aloud could jinx his luck with volatile big brother...) And, as I've been typing this, another conflict brewed between Seda and Trin. The latter came in and expressed himself, taking full responsibility for his feelings and needs and his part in a misunderstanding. His voice could be described as a whine, erupting in tears midway, and making space for a good sob before asking for my response. I found that we were both more creative than usual in solving the problem, and both of our needs were met, Seda releasing her issue with it in confusion over our solution.

I am sitting now in gratitude for dilemma, the opportunity to crack open perceived barriers so that limitless possibility can be seen by both sides. In gratitude for growth and shared learning, shared reality, and the unconditional love that keeps us trying for a winning solution.

For patience, for care, and for the courage to say 'no.'