Tag Archives: name calling

Invisible Hormones

Screen Shot 2017-08-01 at 10.18.15 pmI always like discovering new words, and this week I found one which has helped me understand my sons a whole lot better. It’s called Adrenarche. It’s rather appropriate that it kind of sounds a bit like ‘anarchy’, because that’s what led me to go looking for it.

The benefit of having four sons (and God help us, there HAVE to be some), is that you have the opportunity to notice patterns. Recently, Cruz- my third child to turn 10- has been acting up a lot. He normally has such a lovely nature, but lately he’s been excessively reactive, emotional and just all round volatile.

The other day he ran into the house really upset over a soccer goal that was scored against him, and as I watched the other boys rush in behind him, complaining that he had ‘lost the plot’, I thought to myself: this scene looks familiar. Both his older brothers had a really nasty patch that came out of nowhere around the same age. Could there be something more to this?

So I took to Google and came across Adrenarche, which is a sort of silent pre-puberty that hits children around the age of ten. In preparation for the body changes that lie ahead, the adrenal glads (over the kidneys) suddenly come alive and begin to secrete a cocktail of androgens, which apparently affect young boys a lot harder than they do girls.

It’s interesting because we girls go through such visible changes in puberty that ‘oh it’s just hormones’ becomes a very plausible way to dismiss tricky behaviour. Boys dealing with Adrenarche however, may not generally have access to the same level of awareness. It must be a confusing and challenging time for them.

Long story short, I gathered Cruz and his older brothers and explained my findings, using (as I always do) analogies to help simplify the matter. “It’s like your brother has suddenly found himself behind the wheel of a much bigger and more powerful car than the one he’s been used to driving. We can’t get angry at him for not knowing instantly how to control it. We have to help guide him.” I reminded the older boys that they had gone through this transition too, and they had been right trolls to deal with- so they owed me some help.

Imparted with their new status of ‘driving instructors’, it has made for more peaceful and compassionate dynamics. And not to mention, Cruz feels a lot more empowered to handle this little bump in the road.

Thank you, Google. You have all the answers.

(Photo by Nick Schumacher)

When something bugs you

IMG_0329Last week I led my boys through an experiment on the driveway which involved the smashing of an egg to demonstrate the power of the spoken word.  Much like the unrecoverable splat of shell and goo on the driveway, once an insult is thrown, it can never be taken back.

The intended moral of the story?  People are fragile and we need to treat each other with care.  However, as I thought about it some more, I realised that there was a second part to the lesson.  We can’t walk around on egg shells after all.  The world isn’t always a kind place.  We are all recipients of harsh words at one time or another.

We can’t just crack under the pressure each time it happens.

Alright, no more ‘egg’ puns.  It’s getting eggsausting.  For this next demonstration, what we needed was a swarm of bugs.

So one evening during the week, I left the outside light on for longer than usual and once I had a good gathering of moths, geckos and assorted bugs, I called the boys to the screen door.  From behind the mesh, they could see the bugs, but were not affected by them.

I stepped out bravely into the swarm of bugs and begun by making an analogy out of the situation.  Whenever we shine in life (like the light bulb), we are likely to draw some criticism (like the bugs swarming around it).  It’s annoying, but it’s just life.

What do most of us do?  We step right into it.   I invited the boys to step out from behind the safety of the screen door.  Now they too were exposed to the bugs.  We stood there uncomfortably for a few minutes, noting that there is a clear difference between being observant to criticism, and allowing ourselves to be affected by it.

Sure, it’s impossible to ignore what goes on around us.  If people are cruel, unjust or aggressive, it’s going to be something that we notice.  But much like the screen door, we have access to emotional filters designed to manage how deeply we allow things to affect us.

In a practical sense, how do we do this?  The answer comes from knowing WHY certain things affect us.  It’s not necessarily what is said, it’s the stories we tell ourselves about what is said.

A statement is made.  It touches a sore spot.  We feed the statement with other lies, sifting through the dregs of our fears and insecurities, looking to build a castle around what should have only been a brick.

We are natural storytellers and it’s our tendency to feature ourselves as the dramatic heroes of our personal Shakespearean tragedy.  It makes for a more interesting read, right?

But…. what if we are reading the story all wrong?  What if the real message behind each insult was “I’m afraid,” or “I feel threatened,” or “I’m hurt”?  Would it still affect us in the same way?

I invited the boys to make a choice: would they prefer to stay outside swatting bugs, or did they want to go back inside, behind the screen door?  We couldn’t get back inside fast enough.   As we shuffled in, I reminded them that whether it was bugs or insults, we always have the protection of a door, depending on where we chose to stand.

We may not be able to change what is said, but we always have a choice about how we interpret it.

It’s our right to shine brightly, our responsibility not to throw eggs and it’s within our power to close the door when others do.