First, I have to say how thrilled I am to have found your site. I’m an advocate of RIE principles, and I organize a community of parents trying to parent mindfully and healthfully. I’m excited to read through your back posts!

My second reason for writing is an issue we’re having with my daughter. Marlowe is 22 months old, and about a month ago she had a terrible diaper rash. Without realizing that it would cause her any pain, we put her in the tub for a bath. She let us know right away that something was wrong and we took her out. We did sponge baths while the rash cleared. Now she’s terrified of the bath—she downright refuses it. We’ve tried all sorts of things to coax her back in (new playthings, less water, putting her potty in the tub so she wouldn’t be submerged). Nothing’s working, and bath time is awful for all of us as we try to wash her while she screams and tries to climb out. 

Of course, we don’t want to put her in situations she’s so clearly upset by, but I’m at a loss for how to get her back in the bath. Any advice would be welcomed and appreciated!

All the best,

Lindsay

Hi Lindsay,

I can never emphasize enough how bright, aware, sensitive, receptive and capable our babies are – simply brilliant. And in toddlerhood, they surprise us by becoming a little more complex. Gaining the new independence they instinctively need requires them to test us, pull our strings, push our buttons and, in Marlowe’s case, pull back the reins, which is not to say that I don’t believe her terror of the bath (or at least believe that she believes it).

Who knew a bath would irritate diaper rash? (I sure didn’t!)  It was an understandable blunder, but what’s done is done. Now, how to stop Marlowe from associating the bath with pain, and help her overcome the emotional hurdle to get back in the bathwater…

Whenever I am having difficulties understanding my children (or anyone), I try to see from their point of view.  This might be Marlowe’s take on the situation…

It was a nasty surprise for Marlowe when it hurt her to be in the bath, a place she’s enjoyed and found comfortable. Naturally, she’s wary of ‘getting back on the horse’ and bathing again. Meanwhile, she senses her parents’ dismay, and is fully aware of their growing concern as they coax her, try to placate and please her, to no avail. Like most toddlers, she sees right through those efforts, doesn’t miss a trick. All the while, she feels something strangely thrilling: she has power — the power to make her parents worry, puzzle, and fret, feel a bit of guilt, even a tad desperate. Jumping in and enjoying a bath again would mean giving all of that up…hmmm.

I don’t have a magic solution, but here’s what I would do:

Encourage and acknowledge her feelings.

When the children we’re caring for are hurt or cry for any reason, we have a tendency to talk them out of their feelings by saying things like, “Oh, it’s alright, you’ll be okay. All better now!”  Our intention is to give comfort and reassurance. I learned through infant expert Magda Gerber that what children really need is a response that feels counterintuitive for most of us…acknowledgement and validation of all their feelings, directly, honestly, completely. Pre-verbal toddlers especially need encouragement to release feelings, many of which are confusing to them. They need our acknowledgement and acceptance, so that they can process the feelings and move on. Maybe you’ve done some of this with Marlowe already. She may need more.

I would sit down with Marlowe during a peaceful, pleasant time of day and talk to her about what happened in the bath. Tell her you realize that must have hurt terribly and been really upsetting, and you totally understand why she wouldn’t want to take a bath again. Ask her about it with no agenda, just an open, accepting attitude. Encourage her to go over it, even relive it, and complain, cry, whatever. Be her therapist. 

Trust her and let her know it.

Then I would actually apologize for coaxing her to take a bath. It’s good for children to know that adults make mistakes — we’re human.  I would project confidence, and say something like, “I’m sorry we tried to get you to take a bath when you didn’t want to. I know you got very upset and said NO. We made a mistake. We won’t do that again.  We’ll wait for you to show us when you’re ready for a bath. For now, we’ll have sponge baths to help you stay clean.”

Keep perspective.

I know you’re probably thinking my suggestions give Marlowe too much power. But right now, unless you’re going to force her into a bath (and you don’t sound like you want to do that), she has the power in the situation. Toddlers need to be forced to do things sometimes, but for me, bathing isn’t one of those times (unless of course, she works on a construction site, or plays in an oil spill or dangerous chemical substance). It sounds like you want her baths to be relaxing and fun. So, if I were you I would let go, pull back, wave the white flag and resign yourself to giving sponge baths for awhile. It won’t be long.

Give her choices for when she’s ready.

At the end of the “therapy session” you might add, “When you are ready for a bath again, I want you to choose 5 toys for the bath and pick either the green or blue washcloth.”  Then, when it’s time for her bath, ask her once, “Do you want a tub bath or a sponge bath?” Accept her answer readily.  If she does go for the bath, don’t forget to give her the choices, continue to allow her to lead the way or change her mind, respect and acknowledge any fears or tears, i.e., “You’re looking worried. Are you remembering how much your bottom hurt that time? It won’t hurt now. You can either give it a try or get out.”  If she decides to stay in the bath, ask her to wash herself, help turn off the water, etc., always inviting her to participate as much as possible.

With a little patience, I have a feeling she’ll be splish-splashing happily again soon… 

With Warm Regards,                                                                                                                                                            Janet 

P.S. Thanks for your kind words about the site. I’m glad to know you, too!

Song and Season is Lindsay’s Waldorf family learning community in New Haven County.

If anyone reading has dealt with bath time dramas, please share what worked or didn’t!

If you had asked me before that day whether I respected her, I would have quickly answered “Yes, of course!” But I would have been lying (misunderstanding the question, anyway). What I observed in that parenting class for the first time was not just my baby — it was a whole person with her own mind, a mind I wanted to become intimately acquainted with, and human needs no different than mine or yours. Maybe other parents figure this out right away, but I didn’t.

Without that moment of clarity, I’m not sure when I would have seen beyond the needy infant to the person — possibly when she began walking, saying recognizable words, or at least communicating to me by pointing or gesturing.  Intellectually, I knew she was all there, but not to the extent that I would think to put myself in her shoes (or booties) and treat her the way I would wish to be treated.

One of the most profound lessons I’ve learned since becoming a mom– reinforced by observing hundreds of other parents and babies interact — is that there is a self-fulfilling prophecy to the way we view our babies. If we believe them to be helpless, dependent, needy (albeit lovely) creatures, their behavior will confirm those beliefs. Alternatively, if we see our infants as capable, intelligent, responsive people ready to participate in life, initiate activity, receive and return our efforts to communicate with them, then we find that they are all of those things. 

I am not suggesting that we treat infants as small adults. They need a baby’s life, but they deserve the same level of human respect that we give to adults. Here are some examples of baby care that reflect the way I like to be treated:

Tell me what’s going on. If I had a stroke that made me as dependent as an infant  (I couldn’t take care of my own needs or express myself), I would hope to be warned before I was being touched, lifted, fed, sponged, rinsed, dressed, given a shot, etc.  I would want to know everything that was going on in my immediate world, especially if it directly related to my body. I would want to be invited to participate to the extent I was capable (i.e., given an opportunity to hold the spoon myself.)

At first it feels awkward talking to someone who does not talk back, but we quickly get used to it. Babies begin to understand our respectful intention to include them much earlier than we might believe. And they communicate earlier if we open the door. 

Give me attention. Babies need undivided attention from loved ones, just like you and I do, especially when we are joined physically (as in breastfeeding.)  Several minutes of real attention in intervals each day is more fulfilling than hours and hours of empty physical contact. Stuck sitting in the car next to my husband while he talks on the phone for an extended period of time makes me feel invisible, not important, loved or appreciated.

When someone touches me, especially when it’s intimate (as in a baby’s doctor’s appointment, bath or diaper change), I want to be included in what is going on, encouraged to pay attention, not asked to look elsewhere and ignore what’s happening.

Hear me, don’t just fix me. Relationship counselors teach it, and it applies to our babies too. I want my feelings heard, not fixed. Please don’t ‘shush’ and pacify all my cries, sticking something in my mouth just to stop my tears. I want to be able to try to tell you what I need, before you assume it. Sometimes I just want to cry in your arms and have it be okay with you. Relax. It feels comforting to have you here, calmly listening and trying to understand. 

Let me create and initiate my own activities. I like tagging along on adventures with the people I love sometimes, but I also crave time to initiate activity that I choose. Give me a quiet, safe place where I am not hemmed in, so I can move my body and have uninterrupted thoughts and daydreams. I need time to figure out the way my marvelous hands work, and why there are things like breezes that I feel but cannot see. What I’m doing may not look like much, but I’m actually very busy. (And when I am deeply involved in something, please don’t interrupt me to change my diaper.)

I love knowing that you are nearby in case I need you, or within shouting distance, but please don’t get me in the habit of following you all the time when there is so much I could be experiencing for myself. Notice the things I like to do.  Let me show you the interesting person I am.

Trust me with the truth. You don’t have to smile at me when you’re upset. Be honest with me. Be yourself, so that I can be myself, too. We have lots to learn about each other. It won’t always be perfect together, but it will be real. And when you are worrying and projecting about the future, I’ll tug you back into the moment. Promise.

Once, I remembered it when my independent ten-year-old went through a phase in which she saw no reason to bathe. Days would pass. She would come up with excuses. I would let her off the hook and then forget about it. Finally, the time came when I knew I must force the issue, but I was still hesitant to demand it. Bathing should be looked forward to as a pleasant experience, not dreaded as an angry and resentful one.

Then, suddenly, the Good Parent Fairy whispered infant specialist Magda Gerber’s magic words to me –“Pay attention” – and I was reminded of her thoughts on baby “caregiving.”

Magda directed parents to give full attention to babies when feeding, diapering, bathing and at bedtime. Rather than treating these activities as unpleasant chores and rushing through them, Magda taught us to take advantage of intimate moments together by slowing down and including the baby in each step. When we do these activities with, rather than to a baby, we cultivate a relationship based on respect and trust. Daily intervals of focused attention refuel children, giving them the nurturing they need to spend time playing independently.

When our babies get older, caregiving opportunities are not as delineated. They might look like: removing a splinter; putting make-up on a bar-mitzvah-bound daughter; or lying with a son at bedtime while he sobs about an unkind playmate. Even though my daughter was fully capable of bathing herself, it was worth a shot to see if she needed my attention. So, I asked her, “Shall I come and wash your hair for you in the bath?“ “Yeah…okay,” she answered meekly. Bingo.

Would you rather have close proximity to a busy loved one all day long, or a few minutes of that loved one’s undivided attention?

Our children need real attention more than they need video games, iPods and trips to Disneyland. Please excuse my Hallmark sentimentality, but simple moments of true togetherness, whether we are happy or sad, mean the most. Focused attention is the glue that holds relationships together. Then why is it so hard to remember?

My newborn son had colic. He would wake in the night several times and cry for an hour or more before I could get him back to sleep. I was an exhausted mess. And my two daughters were adapting to the new addition to the family.

My four year old exhibited the expected mood swings: adoring her brother and being supportive of me one minute, then whining and crying the next. She was in obvious mourning for the loss of her previous life, life without a baby that took up most of her mom’s time and energy.

My nine year old daughter was a perfect angel, which, if I’d been paying attention, should have been a giant red flag. She made no demands of me, stayed out of my way and off my radar. I deliriously thought, “She’s old enough to understand this situation. She’s fine.” My husband and I had heard a glowing report about her in a teacher conference before the baby’s birth. She has always been an excellent student, but she was not without her difficult moments at home. Children are inclined to give those they are closest to (and feel safest with) the backhanded compliment of their worst behavior.

A few weeks after the baby was born, we got a phone call from the nine-year-old’s teacher. Our daughter had begun acting out in class. She had talked back to the assistant teacher and stuck her tongue out. Displaying a rebellious attitude at school was totally uncharacteristic. My heart sank.

I realized that my daughter must not have felt ‘safe’ to act out with her overwhelmed mom. So, instead, for the first time ever she was showing her worst to the outside world. That day after school, I sat in the car with her and talked. I asked about her feelings, imploring her to express anger, sadness, loss, all the thoughts she must have felt the need to keep from me. I suggested the feelings she might be having, and how normal, how expected they all would be. She could not answer, except for once or twice saying quietly, “I don’t know.” I became desperate for her to respond. I was in tears then, but still nothing. This one-way dialogue went on for thirty or forty minutes, but it felt like hours. I was beside myself. Just as I was about to give up and return with her to the house, my usually strong, assertive daughter spoke in a tiny, pained voice. “Pay attention to me.”

From then on I made a concerted effort to let my daughter know that I could handle anything she might need to throw my way. I carved out a little bit of time each day just for her. When she saw that I was not too overwhelmed to be there for her bright and dark sides, her behavior at school returned to normal. I was grateful to her teacher (who, interestingly, has always been my daughter’s favorite) for alerting us to a change in our daughter immediately.

In hindsight, I think of those times my parental presence was needed – for issues large or small, important or mundane, joyous or heart-wrenching – as the most cherished moments in my life. Giving real attention has always turned out to be a gift to me, too.

 “Oh, Mama, just look at me one minute as though you really saw me.” – Thornton Wilder, “Our Town”

(The hidden benefit to this is that my husband now prefers to get-it-and-go himself, rather than waiting an hour at home for me to return with the family’s groceries.) I don’t even attempt Cosco anymore. I appreciate the convenience of the gigantic store that has everything, but my temperament is better suited to a simpler time long ago (or a more European shopping experience) when one purchased items individually from the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker.

In a recent Parent/Infant Class a parent asked me about taking a baby on errands. The mother said that her son objected to being placed in the stroller and wouldn’t sit in the little seat in the supermarket grocery cart. It’s not surprising that an infant or toddler dislikes accompanying mom or dad as they rush around doing errands. Babies are eager to move their bodies freely, and participate actively in life. It’s not a baby’s dream to get in and out of a car seat, and then tag along with parents through a blur of faces, sights, sounds and smells. Sometimes, even though it is inconvenient, an infant feels more included when he is held rather than strapped into a seat or carrier.

There will be times when it’s impossible for a tired baby to tolerate a restaurant, shopping trip or other outing. If a baby or child of any age is having a complete meltdown in public, the parents should stop what they are doing and take the child home. This is not only out of politeness to others, it is the kind and thoughtful way to handle someone who is upset. I have left a few full grocery cartloads in the market over the years.

Infant expert Magda Gerber emphasized the importance of a baby’s participation in daily activities like diapering, feeding and bathing. Slowing down to include a child in the tasks that involve him, rather than distracting with a toy, pacifier or food while we hurriedly get the job done, transforms each chore into an intimate learning experience. The child learns language in a pertinent way with all his senses, “Here’s the yellow washcloth. Would you like to dip it in the warm water?” He also gains confidence as he learns that his cooperation is valued. Rather than being expected to ignore the mysterious things being done to him while he shakes a rattle, he’s encouraged to participate in a mutual experience with another person. A nurturing relationship rooted in respect blooms between caregiver and child.

A young child has little opportunity to participate in a trip to the market or post office, but if we have no choice but to bring the baby along, I believe in making a concerted effort to stop and smell the roses. We do this when we slow down, adjust our perspective and see the world through our child’s eyes.  Rather than focusing on “making it work” by pacifying and directing our baby every minute, we let go of our agenda a little and share in the wonder of learning, imagining our child’s thoughts and responding more than dictating.

Let’s imagine we are in the supermarket. Instead of ignoring our baby as we rush around, or placating him with a box of cereal and saying, “Look at the cool Leprechaun…hold this,” we take note that our baby is staring at a bounteous stack of oranges in the produce section. We wait while he takes in the view. If he’s still staring we might say, “You are looking at the oranges. Would you like to touch an orange?”

Sometimes we find a new appreciation for life when we slow down. Adults are used to hurrying. A child teaches us to downshift, and take in all that surrounds us in a new way. When my children were little there were countless times that I stopped and asked myself, “Why am I rushing?” Most of the time it was just a habit of expedience, and my children would then inspire me to stop and enjoy.

When my second daughter was 3 and 4 she loved to weigh produce in the market. I was impatient with her desires at times, but in retrospect I realize that she was giving herself math and science lessons as she noted the weights of the cantaloupe and the bag of broccoli.

Our children’s fascinations may surprise us, but when possible we should try to accommodate their interests. A mother in my Parent/Toddler Class shared an ‘aha’ moment. Carrie had been out running errands with her toddler, Angus. Angus began to get grumpy. Carrie had the idea that she could cheer him by introducing him to horses at a nearby stable. When they exited the car, Angus noticed a gravel walkway. He was intrigued with the pebbles and squatted down to examine them. Carrie, still in rush-mode, could not wait to show him the horses. She fidgeted impatiently for a minute. Then, when she was just about to call to him to follow her, she stopped. “Who is this about?” she asked herself. “Angus is content pursuing his interests. I came here for him. I’m the one who is anxious to move on to the horses.” She decided to allow Angus to linger as long as he wished. As she began to relax, she realized that the other items on her agenda could be postponed until another day. Several minutes later they took a walk to the stables and Angus saw his first horse, the sight of which excited him almost as much as the pebbles.

When I have the choice, I would much rather zip around alone to take care of errands. But when my children are with me, I try to take full advantage of their presence. I gain insights about my children when I observe their interests. I slow down and open my mind to an unbiased, innocent, ‘in the moment’ view of life. It feeds my soul.

I remember nothing else about the article, but I could not get Gerber’s unconventional advice out of my mind. I was, at that point, a lost and desperate new mother, who, in spite of reading books and getting plenty of well-meaning advice from relatives and friends, was miserable with the clueless, catch-as-catch-can feeling I had about the way I was caring for my newborn. I sensed that Magda Gerber held the answers I needed to understand child rearing. A few weeks later I called the phone number for Gerber’s organization, Resources for Infant Educarers (RIE), and I attended a Parent/Infant Guidance Class with my three-month-old baby. But first let me backtrack a bit.

I was stunned that my natural maternal instincts didn’t suddenly kick in after my first daughter was born. I expected to know how to take care of my baby. I found that I did not, and the constant uncertainty was draining. I was exhausted and perplexed by my beautiful bundle of unrelenting demands. Besides fulfilling her physical needs, I felt I should entertain her in every waking moment, resting only while she slept.

In my quest to keep my baby duly occupied at all times, I made essential use of the modern contraptions commonly marketed for new parents. She had a musical mobile over her bed. (God forbid she should open her eyes without entertainment!) She had a mechanical swing that lulled her into a glassy-eyed, trancelike stupor and sometimes made her briefly sleep, but left her parents feeling uneasy. During the day, I hung a musical stuffed cow from a light fixture and played it again and again for her as she sat strapped in an infant seat on the dining table, and the mystifying fact that the cow played “Mary Had a Little Lamb” only added to my crazed confusion. I was overwhelmed, anxious, and panicked, and I wasn’t even sure why.

When I brought my daughter to our first Parent/Infant Class, the facilitator asked me to lay her on her back on a blanket on the floor. For two hours she lay awake, looking around a bit, sucking her thumb from time to time. I saw a unique person, separate from me in every way. I saw an infant with her own thoughts who didn’t need me or a musical cow–she didn’t need anything for two hours! It was a parental epiphany. I found new appreciation for my infant as a whole person, no longer seeing her as a needy extension of me. I was fascinated by watching her and trying to imagine her thoughts. On top of that, I was now able to envision time in my day to breathe, relax, and enjoy my daughter–and even leave her for brief periods of time while she was awake.

I continued to attend class with my baby once a week. Magda Gerber’s philosophy turned what little I knew about child rearing inside-out. I began to see the world from my daughter’s point of view. I began to understand Magda’s quote in the L.A. Parent article about a child’s creativity. Let’s start with her injunction to take the mobile off the bed.

Infants are individuals unto themselves. Artists and creative people, whether they are painters, musicians, writers, architects, designers, or philosophers, have by definition embraced and honed their individuality and express a unique vision to the world. If an infant can begin to spend time gazing at, listening to, and later touching and examining what interests him in his surroundings, rather than being forced to see and hear a mobile above his face every time he wakes up, or a rattle being shaken in front of him, then he has a better chance of staying in touch with his own unique essence. There are only a few choices an infant has the opportunity of making in his world, so let’s allow him to make those choices. If we have artwork or a wonderful mobile that we want to share with a child, then we can place it in his room somewhere for him to choose to focus on it, if and when he wishes to do so.

The second part of Magda Gerber’s quotation highlights the need for parents to take advantage of routine but important aspects of caring. If we give an infant our undivided attention when we feed him, bathe him, diaper him and prepare him for bedtime, then we fulfill both his physical needs and his needs for closeness. Magda encourages us to take advantage of these intimate, cooperative activities that are naturally conducive to togetherness, rather than rushing through them to make way for playtime. When a child can soak up a parent’s full attention during caring routines, he is then refueled and ready to play independently.

And this thought brings me to the last part of Magda’s quotation: “leave them alone.”

“Leaving an infant alone” sounds cold and heartless, but the freedom to self-direct “play” time can be best thing for a child. Giving a child (whose basic needs are met) time to himself without interruption breeds creativity and self-confidence. A parent can quietly observe the baby or be in a room nearby. Second or third children in a family are usually given more of this free time because their parents are more relaxed and have less energy to stimulate and entertain. “Benign neglect,” Magda called it.

A recent article in the New York Times, “Your Baby is Smarter Than You Think,” by Alison Gopnik stresses the importance of ‘blue-sky speculation,’ an opportunity to “imagine different ways the world might be.” A baby left alone in a safe place can begin to develop his own view of life. Time alone allows a child to commune with his inner-directed thoughts. He has the chance to absorb every interesting detail in his environment with all of his senses. He is fully in tune with himself; he is at peace.

And this basic insight first conveyed to me by the words of Magda Gerber can have life-long benefits for tomorrow’s complex world. As author Daniel Pink writes in his book, A Whole New Mind, our children need to be prepared to “survive and thrive” in the emerging world he calls the Conceptual Age. Nurturing their blue-sky speculation from the start can provide a strong foundation for developing creative and strategic thinking. “These people—artists, inventors, designers, storytellers, caregivers, consolers, big picture thinkers—will now reap society’s richest rewards and share its greatest joys.”

Infants are big picture thinkers, if we can just leave them alone to think.