Great Lessons, Tiny People: Moving, Resting & Never Giving Up

My niece, in awe as she is reunited with her pumpkin brethren

Though I am not a parent or even an aspiring parent (my current familial status would be best defined as cool aunt who one day will be devoured by her cats), having the opportunity to live in the same house with a little one, as well as working in child care for years have taught me a few valuable lessons.

The following is a non-exhaustive list in no particular order of things I've learned, or gained a better understanding of, thanks to copious amounts of time hanging out with young children (not in a creepy way, I promise).

1) Transitions are difficult. From home to work, from social engagements to home, I've always struggled with transitions from one activity to another. I never quite knew how to describe this phenomena in basic and specific terms, choosing to lump it with a variety of qualities under the ADD umbrella or miss-categorizing it as poor time management, until a very memorable meltdown from my nephew during an otherwise uneventful and pleasant day, raised the question: What's wrong with this kid? is it broken?

My sister's weary yet compassionate response was simply "He has a hard time with transitions", and with that, though unbeknownst to both of us at the time, a key to understanding my own psyche and to a great extent that of those around me, materialized.

The reality was that while I had never quite put it in those terms, that sentence profoundly resonated with me, a grown ass woman in her early thirties, for a reason. I knew exactly what she was talking about. Why did it take me 25 minutes to complete the task of putting socks on in the morning? Why was going into the shower such a daunting and procrastinated task if the process was so pleasant that leaving the shower was equally difficult? Why did I almost never go straight home from work, though I knew I aught to? And for that matter, why did I prefer to endure a 45 minute schlep-by-foot to most destinations VS a 5-10 minute bus ride?

The answer was finally clear: I struggle with transitions. Almost regardless of how a specific activity or venue rank in the Fun-meter, the very act of having to change from one activity to another immediately created a sense of angst.

Learning this basic truth helped me practice respect for my own emotional process, and that of the people- big and small- around me. I learned to allot time for procrastination, to carve out 1.5 hours per day where no speech is necessary and daydreaming is not frowned upon, to walk or bike everywhere when possible, and to take ear-buds everywhere for pleasant transitional entertainment.

2) Sleep is important. Of course we all know sleep is important. We read about it in an article, we heard it from our parents, we experienced in our own lives time and time again- And yet the way that we live in modern western (and western-ish) society would seem to indicate that though we collectively seem to love sleeping, we do not acknowledge and prioritize the vital importance of sleep to our survival and well-being.

Children will not readily admit this fact, it is rather the act of observing a child's daily routine and the significance of sleep within it that will allude to this basic, yet at times elusive, truth: Sleep is very, very important.

Why is sleep so important? Most of us have a basic grasp of the science, something to do with our metabolism, mental stability, learning ability and general well being. Considering all of these benefits, it seems almost laughable that we rarely adhere to the mere 7 to 9 hours of sleep per diem recommendation for adults, vs the whopping 10 to 17 hours required for babies and kids.

While we may know all of this intellectually, internalizing it is a different matter all together, and in my humble opinion few are the ways to better learn this lesson than to observe and interact with children in both well-rested and sleep deprived states. When adults are tired, they'll enact coping and masking mechanisms; we'll brew another cup of coffee, splash water on our faces, or simply "suck it up". Those mechanisms are born of social convention not intuition, and we can most easily observe that through the behavior of young children.

When a small child is well-rested, they can quite literally run circles around us; they'll jump from one activity to the next, sprint through the house or down the street, while all the while telling endless somewhat-pointless stories at 100 words a second or singing songs. I as I am sure many others have often marvel at the seemingly boundless ball of energy that is a toddler or preschooler. Seemingly endless, yet not quite so.

When a kid is tired, it's a race against the clock to bring them securely into their beds before all hell breaks loose. For those who are parents or primary caregivers the over-tired territory is not a new one, but it is a treacherous and terrifying trip through Tantrumville for all those involved. Externally managing bad behavior is of course not the only cause for urgency or action, the child's diminished experience of the day and likelihood of bursting into tears definitely play a part and help shed light on our own psyche.

As grown-ass grownups we are taught to not cry, complain or ruin everyone's meal just because we're having a hard time and are feeling tired. This of course makes perfect sense when one is looking to cultivate and maintain a functioning society, so I am not advocating that we change that but rather change the way we treat ourselves.

"If you never listen to your inner child, they will rebel" a wise therapist once told me, and I believe this sage advice should be applied to most, if not all, of us. Listen to that tearful inner child; cut that last meeting short, skip a couple of errands, don't start watching that fascinating war documentary at 11 pm and limit yourself to one chapter- learn to respect your body and your mind's needs just as you would those of a three year old, and always remember: sleep deprivation is widely-acknowledged form of torture, don't let it be self-inflicted.

3) If you hit a wall, keep going. Manifested in hyperbole yet rooted in family folklore, this lesson came to me when my then 2-something niece decided to take her brand new first ever pair of real sneakers for a mad dash around the small LA apartment, which at the time also housed her two parents, a few visiting relatives a modest-yet-fully-functional home office. Undeterred by these logistical limitations, the tiny toddler tore through the living area, whooshed by the dining table and then headed for the kitchen, slowed down only by a small error in geometrical calculation that caused her to miss the doorway and smack face first and in full force into the wall.

I remember waiting in fearful silence, during what seemed like a while yet was probably more like a millisecond, for the screaming and tears which I assumed would follow. What transpired, was a different scene all together. She stood in front of the wall she had just collided into in slight confusion, shook her face slightly- I can only imagine in the hopes of resetting it like an etch-a-sketch, then moved slightly to the right and kept galloping with glee.

This story rolled around among many other memories in my head for quite some time, before I tried to make sense of it. The ultimate lesson that I took from this experience is more a set of questions and thoughts which inspired me to examine my own reactions. Why do we react the way we do? Are we relying on instinct, or is it social (perhaps evolutionary-based) programming that causes us to have strong negative reactions to failure and pain? Could it be that most of those reactions are not even rooted in the momentary setback, but rather in the memory of past pain and the fear of future failure?

Though pain-avoidance and fear of failure are some of the deepest rooted most tangible emotions in the collective human experience, I'd like to believe those neural and social pathways can be reprogrammed and I am almost certain that the key to that feat lies within the ability to question our reality, to forge ahead with perseverance, and when we do smack face first into a wall, to move a few inches to the side and keep running.