Mommy Mantras: Affirmations and Insights to Keep You From Losing Your Mind - Hardcover

Bethany E. Casarjian is a mother of three and the clinical director of the National Emotional Literacy Project for Youth-at-Risk.  She lives in Weston, Massachusetts. 

Diane H. Dillon is the mother of two and the Director of the Child Study Team at The School at Columbia University.  She lives in New York City. 

Both authors are psychologists who work with children and families.

Chapter 1

Managing Anger

Until I had children, I didn't think I had a temper. Any kind of temper. Pestilence, minor car collisions, my groceries put into someone else's cart after I paid for them, were met with an almost beatific composure. Having kids opened me up to a whole new side of myself. Buckling three uncooperative passengers in car seats when it is 105 degrees and watching them unbuckle "just to get something" can unglue a saint. This is especially true when you're already very late to go somewhere that is guaranteed to be equally unpleasant (e.g., dentist, doctor, town pool, grocery store).

Anger is the emotion that is most likely to "hijack" us, causing our reactions to be extreme and potentially harmful to our children. According to Daniel Goleman, anger is the emotion we have the hardest time controlling. In his book Emotional Intelligence, Goleman refers to our propensity to react hastily and "sloppily" when we're emotionally overstimulated as a "neural hijacking." This occurs when the amygdala, the brain structure responsible for processing and regulating emotions, becomes flooded and we explode with rage. This old neural circuitry, literally hardwiring us to act before we think, had its merits in the days when mere seconds in our reaction time determined our survival. Even though we rarely need to jump-start our bodies into action before sifting through the consequences, we often find ourselves "hijacked" by our anger. Unfortunately, these are the reactions we regret, the moments we wish we could do over or respond to differently.

Recently I was with one of my best friends, Lydia, right after she had her third child. All six of our kids were playing together. Lydia looked exhausted. Her baby was about four weeks old and her mother, who had been helping her, had left two days before. (I'm still not sure why she had us over there--sleep-deprived delirium perhaps.) Lydia's middle child, Eric, was not happy about the arrival of his new sister. And despite the extra attention from parents and grandparents, he continued to treat the baby roughly, pinching her when backs were turned. Periodically the air was punctured by his screaming loudly at her. Eric's behavior was a grab bag full of the nastiness that only a four-year-old who feels displaced and insecure can exhibit.

During the afternoon Eric continued to harass the baby by varying degrees. Lydia kept her cool. She spent time talking to him and soothing him. She preemptively separated him from the baby when he displayed menacing looks. I was in the adjoining room putting some train tracks together for the older kids when I heard a crash and the high-pitched wailing of a newborn. Later, I learned that Lydia had left the baby sleeping in her car seat and left the room for a moment. While she was gone, Eric had flipped the car seat over so that the baby was suspended upside down.

Lydia flew into the room, assessed what had happened, righted the car seat, and grabbed Eric by the shoulders. Without thinking, she started shaking him. I watched in empathic horror. I had been there emotionally. I understood, but she needed to stop. Momentarily, she caught herself and dragged Eric to his room. When she returned, she looked embarrassed and fragile. She began saying she shouldn't have done it, but she had just snapped, and she wished she had dealt with it better. Then she cried and cried a little more when she realized that the other children had watched her shake Eric. I told her the truth, which is that at some point, regardless of how we ended up dealing with those torrential feelings, we've all been there.

*  The pump is primed  *

Research shows that we are most likely to have an intense anger reaction when we are already primed for anger. Lydia's repeated run-ins with Eric over the baby and her postdelivery fatigue had elevated her preexisting anger state. A good analogy is that if the anger well becomes too high, there's a threat that the water will spill over. In real terms it means we might let loose on our kid by doing or saying something we otherwise wouldn't have. Becoming aware of your internal anger state is a key preventative tactic. If you've had a rough day with multiple stressors, if you've been sick or more tired than usual, if there's something disruptive going on in your life, be aware. Notice whether your pump is primed. Just bringing your awareness to your internal state can often defuse a potentially explosive reaction.

If your anger pump is primed, bring your attention to it. Where are you holding the anger in your body? Are your teeth clenched? Take a moment to loosen your jaw. Is your breathing constricted? Take three deep and releasing breaths. Notice the tension wherever it is. For this mantra it is less important that you alter your anger than you become aware of it. As you go through the rest of the day, gently remind yourself that the pump is primed. See every other minor event with this knowledge. Knowing that you are already primed can often serve as a warning for you to bring greater awareness to each incident that happens. Knowing that the pump is primed can help you bring a broader perspective to the situation. Rather than snapping, you give yourself the space to consider how you might react, knowing that you are already emotionally charged. And sometimes just bringing this nonjudgmental awareness to the fact that you are primed can cause some of the anger to dissipate.

Here's an example of how it might work. You've asked your children to pick up the mess in the living room. Then you ask again. Instead of finding an industrious, cooperative agent of good, you find a surly eight-year-old who rails that you aren't the boss of him. Rather than launching into a tirade, it is possible to remind yourself that the pump is primed. This simple awareness automatically opens up your range of responses. You avoid the pitfall of screaming back that indeed you are the boss of him and you will be forever. Your behavior becomes intentional and voluntary rather than reflexive and conditioned. This simple awareness increases your control over how you react.

*  This feeling is temporary  *

No matter what feeling we are experiencing at any given moment, it won't last forever. Our rational, conscious brain knows this. But we often lose this knowledge and can't see a time when we might feel differently. Undeniably, our feelings exert tremendous control over us. Using the mantra this feeling is temporary is a way to reconnect to the fact that our emotions are constantly shifting. No matter how bad or strong a feeling is during any particular moment, rest assured it will start to shift as soon as we begin to experience it. Instantly reminding ourselves that a feeling is temporary at the onset can set the stage for the feeling to transform itself. The mantra this feeling is temporary, while not a cure for strong negative emotions, provides a cue for us not to get "locked in" to a feeling that is bound to change.

The mantra this feeling is temporary can be extremely beneficial when dealing with anger. Fury at finding permanent marker on the new couch becomes roiling anger, changes into steamy frustration, becomes self-judging for lackadaisical housekeeping practices and a firm resolve to lock up the markers, becomes an irritation, maybe becomes anger again when you realize you cannot afford to replace it or reupholster it, turns into feeling mildly perturbed, and finally becomes a remembrance. But the mantra this feeling is temporary can deter you from locking into a state of reflexive anger each time you look at the ugly black mark. Allow the possibility that the anger will soften from the get-go.

*  Breathe, now!  *

Sometimes we need a mantra that is capable of transforming more than just our perspective on a situation. This is particularly true for the moments when we become so intensely angered that we run the risk of losing control. Not long ago, two of my friends were at my house talking about how things have been really difficult for them at home. One was in the process of a divorce and the other was struggling with her son's bourgeoning behavior problems. All of our kids were in the living room playing happily until the dreaded exchange began. I call it the roping of the devil calves. It always goes the same way in our family. You gently but firmly call the child's name at the end of a visit to their friend's house and issue a five-minute warning. "Okay, honey, a few more minutes and then we're going to go." This is met with, "No, I don't want to go. I want to stay." You calmly reply, "Okay, I said five more minutes." Five minutes pass. You give yourself five more. Then you begin to herd the little calves. Again, you ask for their cooperation in retrieving strewn shoes and coats. You don't want to spook them. If they sense your fear, they'll scatter. If you are a novice, perhaps you think that your desire to leave or your need to "get dinner started" will spur action on the part of the child. If you are a worn confederate, you offer some incentive. "I'll let you watch one show when we get home." Sometimes this works, but often you've wasted your one good shot at the holding shoot.

Finally, after much cajoling and the outlining of consequences, you must physically approach the errant three-year-old and secure his or her fist while applying shoes. Maybe her own, perhaps not. Sometimes some pinning to the floor with a knee is involved. All three of my children have this bad leave-taking syndrome. I have followed through religiously on consequences (no playdates for a week, no public pool if that was the location of the botched leave), so things have gotten better, but I've seen it all--hiding under sofas, clinging to lamps. So eventually you rope the devil calves and make your way kicking and screaming out the door.

On this day, it was my friend's tu...