Attunement

ATTUNE: To bring into a harmonious or responsive relationship.

Attuning to our children involves being aware of the messages they are giving us, not just with their words, but with every aspect of their being.

I (mkz) walk into our local coffee shop and see my neighbor sitting at a table, nursing her nine-month-old as she waits for a friend. I say hi, and her baby, curious, stops nursing, looks up, gives me a big smile, and then goes back to nursing. As I wait in line, she begins a game with me across the distance that separates us. She nurses, and then drops her head down so that she is looking at me upside down. She grins and goes back to nursing, and then drops down again, and stares at me. Her mother takes her cues from her, and lets her move her body as she chooses, laughing with pleasure at her daughter’s pleasure. On this rainy Wednesday morning in a local coffee shop, one baby is in a state of bliss.

I (mkz) am reminded of when our own children were babies as I take care of my friend’s ten-month-old son. Holding him against me as I walk, I try out different things, aware of how he is responding, until I find the right combination of gentle up-and-down movements while chanting softly and rhythmically. I slow my breathing down. I feel his body soften and relax into mine. He has no problem telling me without words what he wants. As I sit down with him, he lets me know with his whole body, “No, don’t sit down, carry me, walk with me.” Then he starts to make little sounds, and I pick up on them and we make them together. His head rests on my shoulder. I feel him softening and getting heavier and heavier until he is fast asleep. Slowly I lie down on the couch, feeling his warmth and softness, enjoying the sweet smell of his skin. This attuning is a wonderful gift to both of us. On this spring day, he is finding out once again that he can rely on the people around him. He feels a sympathetic responsiveness from me telling him that what he wants and needs is important and will be respected. When he gets what he needs, he feels satisfied, safe, and peaceful. All this from one small encounter.

When a mother sees her toddler becoming more and more active to the point of being wild and out of control, she decides to lie down on the rug and let him climb on her and play with her hair. She is literally letting him get back in touch with her. Gradually, he starts to quiet, to slow down, until after a while he is lying down on her, resting, settling into the soothing rhythm of her breath. She is helping him to attune to her calm energy. She understands her child’s need for independence and separation, and at the same time his need to be close and connected. All are played out in this scene on the living room floor.

As children get older, attunement between parent and child becomes more complex. My (mkz) ten-year-old comes home from school and walks in the door with a scowl on her face. “I’m hungry!” she says in a fierce voice. I see in an instant that school has taken its toll on her. She’s feeling overwhelmed. She’s been with people all day. She’s about to fall apart. I’ve learned to have a snack ready for her when she gets home. I’ve also learned the hard way not to ask her questions, to give her space. This is not the best time for objecting to her tone of voice or for teaching her manners. After this little respite, she usually looks at me in a somewhat more friendly manner and either comes up to me for a hug or disappears into her room to listen to music.

With older children, being attuned might mean being sensitive to their need to be left alone to concentrate on whatever they are doing, especially when they are in the same physical space with us. It may also mean sensing when to reach out and nurture them in small ways.

As I sit in my friend’s kitchen, her sixteen-year-old comes in complaining of a pain in her neck. Her mother asks her to point to where it hurts. As we talk, she massages her daughter’s neck, periodically stopping her conversation with me to quietly let her know when she feels the knots releasing under her touch. We continue to talk as she massages her, and after about fifteen minutes her daughter leaves the room. My friend tells me that this kind of moment together is a rare occurrence now. It probably helped to have another adult present, creating a bit more distance. It is wonderful to feel this mother’s sensitivity, her willingness to be open to her daughter unexpectedly reaching out, and her ability to appreciate the preciousness of that moment.

Being in harmony with our children doesn’t mean that things will always be harmonious. Being mindful in moments of disharmony and conflict often requires everything we have, every ounce of energy and insight, so that even in the midst of struggle, we have a chance to keep sight of who our children are and what they may need from us in that moment. In order to do this, we need to be willing to acknowledge to ourself our own fears, reactions, and concerns, and yet work at maintaining our equilibrium by staying in touch with our breath, our body, and the bigger picture as best we can. This sets the stage for us to recognize and meet their feeling state in more appropriate and imaginative ways. Of course, there will always be moments of struggle and disconnection—these can be opportunities for parents and children alike to learn that it is possible to recover and begin again.