Handling holiday chaos & criticism

Ah, the holidays. Families gather, lights and candles twinkle, music plays, delicious food cooks. Adults sip warm drinks in the kitchen, the cousins play downstairs, and Grandma’s golden retriever snores by the fire.

Except...

For some kids (and parents), those lights are flashy or uneven on the tree, the bells pierce sensitive ears, and dog is terrifying. Open flames? Either irresistibly tempting or panic-inducing. Meanwhile, this crowd of barely familiar cousins plays made up games with mysterious, ever-changing rules, the grown-ups demand hugs and eye contact, and the questions are relentless and hard to answer: How’s school? (I hate it). What’s your favorite subject? (19th century military strategy, but I got warned in the VERY long car ride not to “bore everyone silly” with it). 

Routine? Gone. Escape routes? Nonexistent.

And that’s just the kids. Parents field loaded questions too: How’s Carla? (I’ll cry if I talk about it). Meanwhile, your mom is pushing “firmer limits,” Aunt Judith declares there wasn’t “all this autism” in the ’80s, and your child’s safe foods are nowhere to be found. By dinner, you and your child are done—meltdowns, exhaustion, or both imminent.

What’s a parent to do?? Some ideas:

Prepare in advance.

Prepare your child. Practice getting and giving gifts and greetings. Explain exactly what they’ll need to do during services. Show them family photos, so folks are familiar. Most importantly, work out in advance what they’ll do if they’re struggling. How can they signal they need a break and how they will take it (“If it gets too much, you can make the ‘break time’ sign, and go listen to audiobooks in our room for ten minutes”)?

Prepare your family. Build empathy and understanding. Share that this child they love has been struggling and feels worried or overwhelmed. Warn them that sometimes that worry or overwhelm comes out in ways that others misinterpret as misbehaviour or rudeness. Recruit your “people who get it” team. Tell them how to help (“When Carla gets anxious, she sometimes uses a harsh tone, which adults who aren’t as understanding as you misinterpret — poor kid gets in trouble all the time. If she seems anxious while we’re here, here are some ways to help.”). Recruit an older cousin to play separately with your child or to help them navigate the group. Recruit your teenage nieces to take your child outside and run off the squirmies. Recruit your sister-in-law to stand up for your family’s routines.

Set your boundaries. The best boundaries are things *you* control (you can’t make Aunt Judith serve dinner earlier than 9pm, but you can say you’ll attend for hors d’oeuvres then duck out at 8pm for bedtime). What other things do you need to avoid or add in to give your child the best chance of success? I promise the holidays will still happen if you don’t do everything.

Prepare your space. We are not “throw all the kids in the basement with some sleeping bags” people. Put your child to bed somewhere they have a chance of sleeping well enough not to be wrecked by the second day. Bring your tools (headphones, sensory support, stuffed friends, games). Create a safe space for an escape when the crowd is too much. Set up a corner, hang a sheet, throw some pillows in the bathtub and let them close the curtain. Ask Grandma to turn the music down and put the dog away. Show your child their space as soon as you arrive, and tell them any rules for using it. Knowing there’s a safe place to reset can make all the difference for both of you.

Once you’re in it

Routine. Routine. Rest. Repeat. Maintain your routine as much as possible, or make a new one. Sticking to an order of events helps kids predict what’s coming and feel less anxiety. Schedule in quiet time, even if you have to miss afternoon activities, especially if your child never gives themself a break willingly. Make your child’s bedtime inviolable. This does not make you “a stickler,” and it doesn’t mean you’re “letting your child run your life” (pipe down, Aunt Judith). It means you are an awesome parent who is giving your child the rest and predictability they need to be part of a family event that will now be more fun and enjoyable for everyone.

Respond to criticism with education, not embarrassment. People might criticize you or your child, outright or passive aggressively. They might even say things you yourself worry about in the dark. Remember: people are not saying those things because they are true; they are saying them because they don’t know any better. Take a deep breath, pretend to be fine, and educate them: “Actually, for many children with OCD, unfamiliar foods can cause nausea and panic. Carla’s sticking to her safe foods so she can enjoy dinner with people she loves.” Done. Don’t argue. Just give Carla her plain noodles and a hug. In educating your family, you help Carla identify and label her own needs to self-advocate. Worst case scenario: distract them (“Oh, Aunt Judith, you’re so sweet to be worried. How’s your arthritis?”)

When people are unkind to or in front of your child. Sometimes kids ask why family members seems to judge them or act in hurtful ways. Sometimes family is outright unkind. My instinct used to be to sort of gaslight my kids: “Oh no, Aunt Judith loves you very much, she’s just not good at showing it.” I think I was wrong. Hurt feelings need to be validated, kids can tell when we are lying, and the priority is your child and her understanding of herself and her relationships. I wish I had been honest and validating, making sure my kids knew they weren’t to blame (“That hurt your feelings. I’m sorry Aunt Judith doesn’t understand. That’s her mistake, not yours.”). Our children deserve to feel like people who love them will work to better understand and support them, and they deserve for us to recognize when they’ve correctly interpreted a situation, even if it’s uncomfortable.

The main point: The priority is your child, her trust in you as a fierce warrior who gets her, and her understanding that she is not wrong or bad for needing different things than her cousins. So be her protector and her advocate, even when it’s hard, even if Aunt Judith* sniffs. And then everyone take a little break in the bathtub.

You got this.

Want to read more or find a specific article? Start here.

* For the record, I do not have an Aunt Judith! I have lovely aunts and aunt-in-laws, at least one of whom reads this blog and totally gets it.

How to create a Safety Plan that actually keeps anyone safe.

This month, many parents got that letter from the school. Maybe it makes it sound like your child is a hardened violent criminal. Maybe it has terrifying phrases like “presents danger to self and others", “call 911,” and “physical restraint.” It’s scary and mortifying. Teachers get these plans, generic, full of “strategies” that aren’t helpful in the moment of crisis, and containing little that seems like it will keep anyone safe.

It doesn’t have to be that way. A solid Safety Plan is actually a super useful tool. It’s simply a set of instructions and interventions for adults to use when a child becomes overwhelmed or distressed. It’s supposed to follow a child around the school, so that every adult — every lunchroom attendant, every temporary teacher, every after school helper — know what signs indicate that child is becoming distressed, and what to do to keep them from escalating or to de-escalate if it’s too late.

Unfortunately, too often, these plans are not helpful. Here’s how to fix that.

If all this seems like too much (or you don’t have time to read because who does?), let’s figure it out together.

Start BEFORE things escalate.

Most plans begin after a child has begun shrieking or throwing things. This is too late. You need a plan that starts when it’s still possible to ward off the crisis.

Check out our Downloadables page for a template you can use.

The first thing in the plan should be a list of the kinds of situations that are hard for the child (e.g., assemblies in the gym). Some plans call these “triggers.” I prefer “stressors.” Alongside, you’ll have a list of ways to make those situations easier (“Mari may choose to sit on a chair at the side of the gym, rather than on the floor with her classmates”).

Then, instead of only addressing crises, you create the plan in stages:

• Stage one: anxiety or discomfort (this is where something has triggered the child, and they are starting to have feelings about it)

• Stage two: frustration or defensiveness (things are starting to heat up, but a crisis is still preventable)

• Stage three: crisis or loss of control (this is where people need to switch into de-escalating)

For each of these stages, you’ll list:

• What to look for and listen for (what are the clues this child is anxious or uncomfortable?)

• What to do about it (what to say and how to help your child feel safe, understood, and able to stay regulated)

Individualize the plan to your child.

Again, these plans are often generic. Some of the clues are things a lot of kids do. But each child has indicators specific to them, so make sure the plan includes those, and be as specific as possible (“difficulty finishing sentences or repeats questions over and over” or “takes deep inhales and huffs exhales”). The hope is that the adult in a child’s life sees these clues and thinks, “ Aha! I know what’s happening here. He’s distressed. Let me use the language/strategies in his plan.”

Similarly, the strategies and interventions you offer need to be individualized. What actually helps this child when they’re upset? If possible, ask the child. (If you want help thinking of ideas, we can help)

Make the strategies actionable and specific.

“Make child feel safe” and “use gentle words” are not specific strategies. We’re looking more for “Allow child to access their safe space/headphones/special toy” (and be specific about what/where those are) and “Using a calm tone of voice, tell Mari she is not in trouble, and ask what she needs.” I am a huge fan of direct quotes. They take the guesswork out for teachers and other adults and comfort children because they’re familiar (“Say, ‘Mari, I notice you’re wringing your hands. How can I help?”). I am also a fan of pre-set spaces, objects, and assistive communication tools (“Ask if Mari would like to use her flashcards to choose a ‘calm down’ activity. These are located in the fanny pack Mari wears each day.”).

Look, children don’t think straight when they are distressed, and adults don’t think straight when they’re stressed a child is headed to crisis. A good plan provides adults with specific language and strategies, so they don’t have to invent them on the spot, and so they can remain calm because they know what to do if things ramp up.

List the safe helpers

We all work better with some people than others. A child may have their distress magnified or mitigated depending on who comes to help. Good Safety Plans list 3-4 “safe helpers” that any adult can call to assist the child. Here is a tip: if the people on a child’s list are the same people who come when that child gets in big trouble, their appearance is unlikely to de-escalate anything. Find some “neutral” teachers or support staff whose “Hey buddy, you okay?” has a chance of helping.

Don’t forget repair and re-entry.

Your plan should include Stage Four: recovery, re-entry, repair, or restore. This is an essential part of helping the child learn, helping other children feel safe, and making sure the child feels welcomed back to the community. This is not punishment. It is making sure a child is okay after what was, trust me, a super difficult time for them. It is conversation and question-asking, and giving everyone involved space to express feelings and make amends. Classroom restorative practice programs can really help. The important things are that there is a plan for re-entry that focuses on support and learning, not “consequences” and forced apologies.

Don’t go overboard.

The meat of this needs to fit on one piece of paper, or it will simply be too much to expect new/temporary adults to access. Focus on strategies for prevention and hit the most important ones.

Children should not be physically restrained.

They should not be wrestled to the ground, locked into rooms, receive corporal punishment, or be screamed at. If a child’s plan doesn’t state this outright, add it in. These things cause trauma that lasts well after the crisis ends. Plus, they don’t work to de-escalate anything. Would “safe restraint” techniques work to de-escalate you?

Have the meeting

Most of the time, these letters come with an offer to meet to discuss the plan. Have that meeting. Ask that as many people involved with your child as possible are there. Come in with draft plan ideas and be ready to project manage the meeting. Ask, “What’s the school’s process for making sure everyone working with my child understands this plan?” Teachers, make sure parents feel the plan is appropriate. If they want you to engage in strategies you feel won’t work or are inappropriate, you’ll need to explain.

Get help.

Come to a Huddle.

Talk to us 1:1.

Want to read more or find a specific article? Start here.

“She just wants attention”

People say things like:

• “He’s the class clown.”

• “She’s disruptive” or “She monopolizes class time.”

• “It’s attention-seeking behaviour.”

But, given that we know no child is trying to be disruptive or frustrating, what might really be going on? Some ideas:

Connection

Sometimes a child needs connection or a moment of recognition from a teacher, and “acting out” is the most reliable option. Sometimes they’re hoping to connect with peers by making them laugh. They don’t realize the teacher’s attention is anger, or that the laughing class is wary of the naughtiness or unpredictability. They’re just looking for social interaction, and they can’t always use more effective, sympathetic ways to get it. They call out answers or monologue when it’s their turn, and they interrupt or make inappropriate jokes. When you can’t get connection other ways, even scolding or scowling might seem like a good thing.

Escape

Maybe the work is boring, since they’ve already mastered the concept. Maybe it’s frustratingly difficult, and they’re mortified because they “should” be able to do it. Maybe there are too many steps, or they aren’t sure of the directions at all. Maybe they’re riddled with anxiety. Maybe they simply cannot sit still in this uncomfortable, straight chair another second.

It might not even be conscious, but disrupting the lesson, distracting the teacher, and getting sent away are super effective means to escape when you can’t ask for help in better ways.

Discomfort

Maybe they are physically super uncomfortable for some reason and truly can’t stay still and quiet.

Or, maybe this topic has them super uncomfortable or scared. As kids get older, they vary in their ability to handle increasingly mature subject matter. More serious topics, more deeply emotional conversations (even when they’re about other people), more frightening stories from real life -- all these can make kids (and grown ups!) itchy with discomfort, unable to regulate, and ready to disrupt.

Desire to share information

Some kids (and adults) want to share things they know as a way of making friends or creating a connection in a conversation. It might seem to teachers or peers like the child is “monopolizing the conversation,” but maybe the child is offering their knowledge like a gift. Maybe they don’t mean to be selfish or to “hog” the spotlight, but instead are engaging in their own, divergent communicative patterns. Maybe they need to speak aloud to process their thoughts and learning about something they find super interesting and hope others will too. Maybe what feels like one-sided conversation to some people is actually an attempt at the opposite.

Social anxiety

Maybe a child knows they struggle to interact socially with peers. Maybe they’ve missed cues or conversational transitions enough to be constantly anxious that they’re about to be “in trouble” or laughed at for something they didn’t even realize was different or wrong.

Maybe, given all that, it’s easier to intentionally flout social rules, make inappropriate jokes, or monologue without letting others speak, because at least it offers some control over the situation and some predictability to others’ reactions.

It’s not “attention” kids are seeking. It’s connection or help. Or, it’s simply a different way of trying to create social interaction.

Either way, as with other “behaviour,” attention-seeking reveals unmet needs that, for whatever reason, kids can’t express in more sympathetic or effective ways.

Want help figuring out why a child might seem to be seeking attention, and how to help? That’s what we do.

Come to a Huddle, and join other parents with similar questions. We’ll share, problem-solve, get advice, and laugh a little to make it all less stressful.

Talk 1:1 to someone with experience as both a teacher and a parent, and get individualized advice for you and your child.

Want to read more or find a specific article? Start here.

Figuring out what’s making it hard

“Okay, I know this is not my fault, and my child’s behaviour is just their way of communicating that they need something. But how do I figure out what that is??”

Start with two questions:

1. What is your child supposed to be doing that they can’t do?

2. What might be making it hard?

To answer these, you become a detective, investigating characters, setting, and clues.

Start with your child. Ross Greene has fantastic resources for doing this, so I’ll be brief (do go check him out). Make sure you approach with no judgment, no punishment, no disappointment. Wait until they’ve recovered from the school day, then say something like, “Hey buddy, it seems like it’s been really hard in math class this week. What’s up?”* Then you listen, ask questions, and take seriously whatever they say, even if it seems unlikely.

What if they say, “I don’t know?” We don’t always know what’s bothering us. They may not have the self-awareness to know. I liken it to being hangry: I hate everyone and everything, but I don’t always realize it’s because I’m hungry until I eat and feel better. Oops.

They may not have the right words, especially if it’s something the neurotypical people who created language don’t experience. They may not be able to say, “I felt out of whack because we did music before math and the order of the day was all wrong.” Or they may worry that if they tell you, the magic they believe keeps them safe will break; they can’t say, “I couldn’t take the other staircase because every day I touch the bannister on our staircase, and that’s what keeps me safe at school.”

How to help, then? Try some guesses. “Hmm, so for some kids, math is hard because there are a lot of directions and they can’t keep them straight, or for some kids, sitting still for all of math is way too hard for their bodies, and for some kids, it’s super hard to work at a table with other kids making noise.” (Can’t think of guesses? We can brainstorm together.)

Take their ideas seriously, even if they are clearly not the problem (someday I’ll tell you about my kindergartner’s trip to the principal for failure to follow directions because “my hair was in my ear, so I couldn’t hear anything”). Most importantly, you’re going to reassure them that they’re not in trouble, you know they are trying, and they are not alone: you are going to figure this out together.

If your child really can’t say, or won’t engage in the conversation (do we adults like to engage in conversations about mistakes we’ve made?) you need to interview more characters. Start with the teacher (or with yourself, if it’s happening at home):

• Where/when are problems happening?

• What are the patterns?

Your teacher might say there are no patterns, no warning signs, it’s “0-60” or “all day long.” This is highly unlikely. Your child is not walking into the school building screaming, smacking people for 8 straight hours while still screaming, and going home.

Pick a specific instance or repeated issue, and get a picture of the scene before the incidents:

• What is the setting? What time of day?

• Who is there? How many people? How loud is it?

• Is something different from the routine?

• What is your child supposed to do, specifically, that they aren’t doing?

• What warning signs or first attempts to ask for help are there? What seems to calm them down?

You are looking to put yourself in your child’s shoes fully, so you can see where the sticking points might be.

Once you have a picture of the scene, it may be obvious what’s hard (it’s always in French, it’s super hot in the French room, and your kid has sensory issues around heat). Or, you may need further detective work. This is where a diagnosis can be helpful, if your child has one: diagnoses aren’t exact descriptions of any one person, but they offer a place to start.

What things are typically difficult or different for people with this diagnosis? The best place to find out is from people with that diagnosis. Find people on social media who are #actuallyautistic or have ADHD or OCD or sensory processing issues or anything else, and read what they have to say about their experiences. You might get great ideas about what will help. You will certainly have a better understanding of aspects of your child’s experience.

Once you have some solid ideas, it’s time to start trying things out (start by Lowering the Bar).

Most of all, please remember your child is trying as hard as they can, and so are you. And neither of you is in this alone.

* This is not a perfect Ross Greene question, I know, but sometimes we don’t know what’s going on enough to be more specific.

It’s not about the behaviour

It’s October, so for many kids and classrooms, the honeymoon is over. Anyone who spends most of their school day trying to hold it together just can’t any more. Or they can, but then they come home and fall apart. Children may have been struggling all along, or maybe teachers are getting serious and unwittingly ending supports kids were counting on. Either way, it’s harder now, and kids are letting us know. 

How? Some kids cry or whine, some get stomachaches or mystery ailments, some take it out on other kids with mean words or bullying. Some become perfectionists, easily frustrated, or paralyzed by even the smallest changes. Some become the “class clown” or interrupt learning. And some kids scream, hit, run, or do other dangerous things.

It’s all the same. Everything I just described is communication. It’s all signs that a child is overwhelmed by the environment, overtaxed by the expectations, or under-supported and needs help. Some kids are able to express this in ways that are articulate (“I need help!”) or at least sympathetic (tears that melt adult hearts and make us say “Oh, honey, let me help you.”). Other kids are not. Those kids do things that get them scolded, sent to the office, or pointed at by peers. It’s all communicating a need for help, but some kids get it, and others get left out or labeled troublemakers.

How do we know this is true? Because we know this: children want to be “good” and successful and cherished. They are already trying as hard as they can to make adults happy. There is not a single child in the world who wakes up and says, “Today, I’m gonna ruin math class, be stared at in horror by my classmates, disappoint my teacher, and spend recess on the bench. I can’t wait!” They are trying. They are trying their hardest and failing, disappointing adults they love and ending up on the bench anyway, and they feel awful about it. Often they don’t even know what they did that made everyone so mad, because they were just trying to do what we want or to tell us they can’t. We know this because we were those kids, and because we have seen what happens when they get the support they need: they thrive.

The important thing is this: we must focus on that need, on what the behaviour can tell us, not on the behaviour itself. If we are only working to teach kids to control their behaviour (“stop interrupting!), or if we are trying to incentivize them to do what we want (“you’ll earn a sticker!”), we’re not addressing the actual problem, and we will always fail. As my own sassy-but-perceptive child once told a behaviour therapist, “You don’t care how I feel. You only care that I act good.”

All this month, The Huddle for Families is focusing on what might be behind the behaviour, so that kids can do more than act good. We’re working to help teachers and families figure out what children might need, because that is the absolute best way to make classrooms, households, and communities more inclusive, safer places for everyone, so everyone’s children can thrive.

Where to start?

• Read this blog and subscribe to our newsletter.

• Follow us on Facebook and Instagram. 

• Join us for a Huddle

• Sign up for Office Hours with me and talk 1:1 about whatever you want. 

• Contact us about professional development for your school or organization.

As usual, everything we do prioritizes lived experience, developmental and classroom expertise, and a safe, nonjudgmental community. Come together with other folks with similar questions, so we can laugh and figure it out together, to try to make it all a little easier, and so everyone can feel a little less alone.

Want to read more or find a specific article? Start here.

When a child can’t swim, we don’t punish them for struggling.

If a child can’t swim, we don’t offer them stickers for staying afloat in the deep end. We offer them something that helps, like floaties, or we let them hang on to the wall. Sometimes, we let them stay in the shallow end until they feel confident.

We don’t just leave it at that, though. We teach them. We show them how to put their face in the water and blow bubbles, how to kick and tread water. We hold them, promising them they are safe, until they can do it alone. We don’t worry that if one kid has floaties, all the other kids will want them. We don’t take the floaties before they are ready, saying, “Well, they’re going to have to learn someday.” And we don’t worry that if we hold children up and promise them they are safe, they will never want to learn to swim.

When they falter, if they can’t make it across the pool, and they go down, a lifeguard jumps in. We don’t leave them there to teach them a lesson, even if they were misbehaving when we taught them to tread. And when they surface, stressed and spluttering, if in fighting for what feels like their lives, they flail and smack the lifeguard or spit pool water on another kid, we don’t yell that they should be more in control. We don’t decide that they are “violent.” We don’t “safe restrain” them. 

When children (and adults) are overwhelmed or panicking, it can feel like drowning, like you are sinking to the bottom of the pool, spluttering and begging for help. Sometimes, you think you are begging for help, but adults see flailing and hear shrieking. Sometimes you get help. Sometimes the people you’ve been told are there to help offer only angry words or a lecture on respect or a physical restraint.

If a child can’t swim, we don’t chalk it up to “behaviour.” We don’t introduce them to a very calm, very nice lady with a folder full of stickers who will try to convince them that the next time, when they are drowning and in fear of their life, instead of flailing and sputtering, what we who have promised to hold them safe really want them to do is to take a deep breath.

What if we believed that every child was already trying their hardest to learn other things too? What if we agreed to interpret children’s behaviourally flailing and failing and yelling as cries for help, like we do in the pool? What if, instead of punishing or labeling, we worked to help them not panic, or to uncover what is making it hard and to offer children the accommodations they need?

The Huddle for Families helps parents and communities try things this way, to see “bad” behaviour as a cry for help, and to problem solve what children need to feel safe, competent, and at home. If your child is struggling, and you want a different way too, come on in.

Want to read more or find a specific article? Start here.

Is this all my fault?

No. This is not your fault. We promise. It’s not because you are a bad parent. It’s not because you fed her too much sugar, or let her stay up to eat with her father. It is not because you don’t have firm limits in your home or you’re not taking enough deep breaths or you’re not doing self care (although, we know you’re probably not). It’s not because you haven’t prayed hard enough for things to be easier for your child. 

It’s not because you sometimes fight with your partner or you don’t have a partner or you have multiple partners or you have a same sex partner or there’s “no mother/father in the picture” or you’re not his “real” parent.

It’s not because you sometimes lose it and yell at him. Or at anyone.

It’s not that you know too much about children or don’t know enough about children or your older kid had a lot of plastic toys and the chemicals seeped into your pregnant belly, along with that glass of wine you had at your sister’s wedding. It’s not whatever else your mother/in-laws/mosque friend/book club/the lady in the grocery store line hit you with in the middle of that epic meltdown.

It’s not because you work outside the home or in the home or you gave up work to stay home or “you know this is because you’re working nights, right?”

Not right. None of it is right. All over the world, hundreds of thousands of families – millions of families – are doing all of those things, screwing up and eating gluten under truly not-perfect conditions and still not having meltdowns on the bus.

This Is Not. Your. Fault. Blame is the game of people who need to believe that good things and privilege happen to them because of the good things they do. And that therefore, there’s nothing they can do to help your child. Blame believes that if we were just “good” parents, short-order cook parents, devout, positive, gentle parents who also set firm limits and breathed mindfully, who spent any extra cash on private services or had a better “system” at home, if we just tried harder, it would all be okay.

It is not all okay. Your child is miserable. We know. It’s exhausting and heart-breaking and relentless. And also: it is still not your fault. 

This can be hard to accept. Because if it’s our fault, at least that means there is SOMETHING we could be doing differently, something that would make it all easier for them. Honestly, that quick fix is a myth. We’re sorry. 

This doesn’t mean it can’t get better, and it doesn’t mean there’s nothing you can do. But first, for you to have the energy and capacity to be the fierce warrior your child needs (because trust us, this is super hard on them most of all), you need ALL your capacity. You can’t be wasting time and brain space blaming yourself. So try to stop, okay?

Also, you can’t do this alone. You need a team. Friends, family who get it. Other parents who have been there, people who have realistic, informed advice and ideas, and a safe, non-judgmental community where you can let it all hang out.

Welcome to The Huddle, for Families. We are here to help. Come on in.

* Everything on this list is something someone suggested to us at some point. Sigh.

Want to read more or find a specific article? Start here.