On parenting a cautious child

Brighton came into the world the way I expected her to - in a sudden rush, loud and wild, announcing her presence - the way I would have entered the world if it were up to me. I expected Brighton to be just like me in all things and for the first year and a half of her life, she was. She was joyful, easygoing, happy among crowds and noise and mostly adaptable. She slept well and ate well and in general, was just an easy baby - even a pretty easy toddler, for the most part.

However around about a year and a half, something in her changed. It was a gradual change and at first Matt and I chalked it up to development and just general toddlerhood. We never attributed it to Brighton individually, meaning who she might be, or her personality. And that was our mistake.

Brighton was a mostly outgoing, gregarious child, but gradually turned into a cautious, slow to warm and shy child. She went from having more of my personality and temperament to being more like Matt. This was not a bad thing of course, but it was something that sort of baffled us. Mostly me if I'm honest. I began to notice her temperament and behavior changing more and more, but I kept reasoning that it was her being a toddler. Some of it was, and still is, her just trying to figure out the world, and pushing boundaries and being curious. But a lot of it had, and still has, to do with who Brighton is as a person.

It took me a while to piece it together though. First, she started to "hide" when we carried into a place where a lot of people were congregating - she would close her eyes, turn her face into my neck and lay her head on my shoulder.  People would say, "Aw, she looks tired! Does she need a nap?" and I wouldn't know how to respond. It would take her at least 10 minutes to stop clinging to me and look up at the people around her.

Then she started turning her back to people who came on too strongly for her liking, even going so far as to walking away and hiding behind something if the person came down to her level and was talking loudly or energetically or was actively trying to play with her. She did this even with her own grandparents at times. Sometimes she would pout and lay down like a limp rag doll (just like she is doing in the picture above) if she didn't feel comfortable with what activity we were doing as a family.

Then it got a little more intense. She would cry if we went to an event or playdate, and there were a lot of people there that she didn't know. One time we met up with a friend of mine and her children at the public library for story and craft time. In the car on the way there, I told Brighton where we were going, and who we were going to see and she acted excited to see her friends. But as soon as we walked over to the story and craft area in the library, she lost it - trying to get out of my arms, crying, saying "no" over and over. I couldn't understand what was going on, so I let her down and she ran and hid in the stacks. For 25 minutes she avoided our friends and the activity area for children. It was only after the volunteers started to clean up, and the children and their parents started to leave that she warmed up to the idea of walking into the space. But she never chose to do a craft with her friends. She just watched.

I also noticed that she stopped smiling at strangers who smiled and said hello to her. Last spring at the mall, Brighton was sitting in the stroller and as I purchased a few items, the cashier leaned over the counter to smile and say hello to her. Brighton did not smile back, instead she turned her head away and covered her eyes with her hands. The cashier looked at me and said, "Oh she doesn't look happy."

I'm going to be honest here - all of this bothered me. It was frustrating to have a child that seemed to cling to me whenever we went anywhere, that she would freak out and have a tantrum if we took her someplace that was supposed to be fun, or that I had to explain to people over and over that she was shy, to just give her a minute to get comfortable and she'd warm up, but then keep explaining if she never did.  I was embarrassed and puzzled and frustrated by Brighton's behavior. She had changed in a way I could not understand or relate to. She acted "normal" around us and people she knew - she ran into her preschool classroom daily with excitement, she played well with her friends at our home or at playgrounds she knew well, she would leap into the arms of my girlfriends for hugs, and talking, smiling and giggling were her mode of operation. So why couldn't she be that way all the time?

A few months ago through tears, I admitted these very feelings and questions to Matt. I felt so much guilt for being frustrated about her reactions and so much more guilt for being embarrassed when she didn't act "normal." And after talking about it for a few minutes, and piecing all these stories together and admitting that I didn't know what to do, it became really, really clear. I had to stop fighting who Brighton was, and accept her just as she is.

We expect our children to be like us. And she is like "us", she looks like me, but her personality is more like Matt's. In general, she is still a joyous, silly, talkative, intelligent child, but she is also cautious, slow to warm, and thoughtful in situations that feel unfamiliar. She observes before she engages and she has to understand and feel comfortable before she says yes. I am nothing like this. My mistake, my HUGE mistake, is that I expected her to be like me and when she wasn't I became frustrated and embarrassed. I valued cheerfulness and enthusiasm over careful observation and quiet thoughtfulness. I valued my own personality over hers. End stop.

So I had to let go of my expectations and reset. I apologized to Brighton (I'm sure she had no idea what I was saying, but it's still important to say sorry to our children) and then got to work trying to figure out how I could change to support who she is as a person.  I researched articles, and read a few books, and starting paying careful attention to her behavior and trigger points, and somehow, through some major trial and error, I figured out what to change. Those changes worked by the way, and they worked immediately (and of course I felt more guilt for not employing them earlier, but quickly got over that too.)

First, I had to respect and acknowledge who Brighton is as a person. She is not like me; she is more like Matt, but she is also her own person, with her own unique personality, temperament and opinions. Who she is had to be accepted as normal. Second, I had to prepare, prepare, prepare her. If I knew that we were having a big party at our house, or going to a place she might not be familiar with, or to a place with a lot of people, I prepared her by talking about it a lot ahead of time - the details, what she will get to do, etc - and then I talked about it some more. Third, I gave her space and time to adjust to new things, loud or crowded places, or changes in her routine. If it took her 20 minutes to go join her friends on the new playground, that was ok. I didn't push her anymore, instead I provided support, both emotional and physical if she needed it, and reassured her that we would be there no matter what. Lastly, I didn't say anything out loud to others that would make her feel bad about who she is, or label her. I stopped using the word "shy" to describe her, and instead just calmly told people that Brighton will come and play when she's ready, and thanked them for their patience.

All of these changes worked, and are still working. Here is a more concrete example: during the month of October we talked about Halloween and the act of trick or treating daily - what the day means, that we planned to have her friends come over and they'd be wearing a costume, that she could wear a costume too, and we'd walk around the neighborhood and walk up to people's houses, knock on their door, say the magic phrase of trick or treat and then they'd give us candy. Then we practiced knocking on doors around our house and at her school, we practiced carrying her pink bucket, saying trick or treat over and over, then saying thank you as we walked away. We practiced the "trick or treat" phrase in the car, we talked about it before bed, we even asked her grandparents to bring it up in conversation. The entire month of October we talked about Halloween and the day of, she was ready. She wasn't apprehensive or resistant or afraid - she knew what to expect, she felt secure in her knowledge of what was going to happen, who would be there, what she would wear and that her parents would help her when she needed it. When her friends arrived, she was a little hesitant, but after holding her and reminding of her of what we planned to do, she got excited and starting talking and giggling. The 30 minutes of walking around the neighborhood was a success - no tears, no freaking out, no stubborn tantrums - just a lot of smiles and excitement about her candy and friends.

So in everything we do now, we prepare her like this. Thankfully some situations aren't as extensive as walking up to our neighbor's house in a costume, saying some odd phrase and getting candy (you have to admit that it's a weird tradition!), but even in things like my parents coming over for dinner on a Sunday night - we talk about it in advance. We let her know when and why things are happening and it helps her feel comfortable and safe. We don't make her feel bad if she doesn't agree to the idea at first, we just keep talking about it, explaining, preparing her, and then give her plenty of space and time to adjust whenever the time comes.

Many might think this is coddling or spoiling her, that we are not letting her learn how to handle situations on her own, or that our actions will eventually be crippling to her... but she is two years old. She doesn't have the emotional or intellectual maturity to know what to do in situations that seem unfamiliar to her. She doesn't have enough life experience to apply to a new situation and adapt.

Plus it is our responsibility to teach, show and expose her to the world. It is also our job to protect her, to ensure she feels safe and is safe, and to create an environment where, when she is ready, she can engage with the world in the way she sees fit. What Matt and I have to do for Brighton could seem like a lot of work - the constant commuication, and preparation, the patience when she is afraid or stubborn or unsure, the extra time we build in for activities - but it is work that is worth it because Brighton is worth it.

Parenting someone who is so different from you is challenging, and even though we have a system that works, some days are harder than others. But I am so thankful for Brighton, for what her sweet, intelligent, cautious little heart and mind have taught me: there is no right way to be social, no right way to learn, and no right personality type. Brighton has always been "normal", it was just her mama that didn't see it that way at first.

Thankfully Brighton forgave me (or at least I think she did - she gave me a kiss on the nose and then went looking for her teddy bear after I apologized.)