Chronicles of Chaos
Sibling Rivalry

My two favorite parenting books on the day to day experience of children were written in the 1970s by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish, How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk and Siblings Without Rivalry: How to Help Your Children Live Together So You Can Live Too.
Last week, I went to a parenting workshop at my kids’ elementary school led by Julie King. King started off the meeting explaining that her mother was friends with Adele Faber. Faber used to talk to her mom and other mothers in the neighborhood (because that’s how it was in the ’70s) about what was working and what wasn’t with raising their kids, and then give them pointers. At the time, Faber and her future writing partner Mazlish were taking classes with Dr. Haim Ginott, psychologist and author of the famous Between Parent and Child and referenced today in great books like Carol Dweck’s Mindset: The New Psychology of Success (another must read on creating a love of learning). King eventually took what she learned from Faber and her books and created parenting workshops for schools and families based on Faber and Mazlish’s approach.
In my simplified description, the idea is to figure out what’s motivating a child’s less than ideal behavior by asking and listening and together brainstorming solutions. The age of the child, and perhaps fatigue of the parent, determine the scope of these conversations. On this particular morning in the school multipurpose room, our topic is sibling dynamics.
I arrive with an agenda. Amelia has developed a pattern–she emerges from her room in the morning, or really any other time, and starts mixing it up with her brothers. It’s typical big sister I’m bored, older and bigger so I can mess with you, my friend. I tortured my younger brother in the same way. Sometimes she sounds so much like the kid-me that I stop loading the dishwasher to listen. Lately however, the resulting arguments and hitting, because escalation is the name of the game, are driving me nuts.
In our meeting with King, ten moms and one dad sit in chairs arranged in a circle and listen as King takes us through a work scenario where we have a boss and an inept (from our perspective) co-worker. Faber and Mazlish’s exercises often show parents what it feels like to be walking in our children’s shoes. In King’s scene, we’re fighting with the co-worker. King reads us a list of different ways the boss resolves our disagreement. It’s an obvious exercise, yet we are struck by our feelings when we’re yelled at or berated or sent to our “rooms”. For me, I feel this urge to disconnect from my boss. I see her as out of touch, distant, and lame. I don’t respect her and have no desire to tell her what I’m really thinking.
I would never want my kids to feel this way about me. Also if I yell or act dismissive, young kids demand connection by crying or yelling back. As kids get older they just go quiet and leave the room. Much worse.
King also shares with us the origin of the infamous Time Out. The time out was borrowed from sports games; like in basketball when the coach calls a time out, each team regroups and then they get back on the court to face each other. A time out is a cooling off period, not the penalty box.
We’re fairly patient with King’s exercise, but at some point we just want to talk about our specific challenges. Some parents describe brothers and sisters tackling each other in their wrestling play and the parents’ safety concerns. A lot of us give suggestions about managing younger kids while tending to the needs of the older, school aged child. Like putting little ones in the bath and sitting on the bathroom floor reading with our second grader.
I eventually pipe up with my big sister predicament. King asks me what I think might be motivating Amelia’s behavior. I give her my story of big sisters do it because they can. I explain my usual approach, which redirects the kids’ attention to the task at hand–eating breakfast, getting ready for school, etc. Some parents offer suggestions, and half an hour later the workshop ends.
That afternoon, Amelia gets into a disagreement with Wyatt and hurts his feelings. So during snack, I sit down with the three of them at the kitchen table and start asking questions in my best Faber/Mazlish. I’m patiently doing my parent education homework without expecting much. I eventually say to Amelia in a light-hearted way that I notice she sometimes arrives in the kitchen and tests the boys a bit. She smiles and then, suddenly, we have our breakthrough.
Amelia says she needs more power–Wyatt’s in charge of Oliver and she doesn’t have anyone to be in charge of and since she’s the oldest she should be in charge of both of them. We then talk about how Dad and I are the parents, and the kids are not in charge of one another, just themselves. Occasionally, I’ll ask one of them to help the other, but there are no dictatorships. We talk about how they enjoy playing together and maybe there will be some more games they’ll create for the three of them to play. Amelia then lists the privileges that Wyatt has that she didn’t when she was his age–staying up later being the principal offense. I remind her of the afternoons Wyatt sits in the car driving to her various activities. Somehow, at the end of the conversation everyone seems to understand that each of them suffers unfairness and they all have been heard.
I learn not to make assumptions about my kids’ behavior. To ask questions and if I’m not getting information, try a different question. As for the kids, for the moment they have returned to a better functioning unit. Within an hour, they’re wrestling in the living room.
Gives me greater inspiration to keep questioning around some behavior with Josie and her aunt. Always in search of that break through moment! Thanks for sharing yours.
I’m always astonished at the clarity of insight/language around a breakthrough: Amelia needs more power. Bam. And wow. Super clear. Thanks for the reminder of what’s possible.