A Discipline Approach That Works Every. Single. Time.

I said no.

And then she was clenching her fists. 

Her eyes were squeezed so tightly I couldn’t see her eyelashes.

Her shoulders were raised so high they were assaulting her ears.

And from her mouth, an impressively-pitched staccato sound was escaping bit by bit.

I had seen this before, and it never ended well.

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I hated the show of scary emotions; truthfully, I feared these emotions more than anything.

Because if I couldn’t calm her down, what would happen? Where would we go from there? 

It was also aggravating. Why couldn’t she just comply with what I had told her? Why did everything have to be so hard? So many extra steps? So much anger and tension?

My own emotions would be familiar: I would feel a rising in my chest; a sinking in my stomach. I would feel my own staccatos coming out, but mine would not be high-pitched like hers. Mine would be angry barks; a low, frightening sound meant to intimidate — whether I consciously knew that’s what I was doing or not.

A Different Approach to Defiance and Meltdowns

But this time, I was ready to try something new. This time, I saw her differently. I had been learning and learning — and learning some more — that her extreme responses were cries for help. That her out-of-left-field reactions were all she knew to do. That she didn’t have the skills she needed at this time.

I had been learning and learning — and learning some more — that kids need help self-regulating. That kids need love — and lots of it — in their worst moments. That displays of love help them feel safe and secure; ready to tackle their hard emotions — together.

So I quickly bent down and wrapped my arms around her tiny shoulders.

Her shoulders receded from her ears and rested where they naturally belonged. My own shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t realized I had been tense.

I rubbed her back while I continued to hug her.

Her vocal staccatos immediately stopped. My own tight throat opened up and I knew that when I spoke, my voice would be kind.

I told her I loved her while I continued to hug.

Her fists unclenched, and her hands wrapped around me in a hug. I felt softness in myself; there was no tension in my own hands.

Then, I stepped back from the hug, bent down, and gently put my hand on her cheek.

I explained the same thing I had told her moments before. My answer to her request was still a no, but this time, she had the skills and energy to handle the disappointment.

My answer was still a no, but I was not angry when I told her this.

My answer was still a no, but we felt love for each other.

And when she calmly and thoughtfully asked for a slight amendment to my no, we found a happy compromise.

I didn’t think a hug could be so powerful.

It’s About Connection

A year earlier, I had taken my daughter to a therapist with the hopes that the therapist would “fix” her. Our situation felt helpless; nothing I had in my bag of tricks worked. Consequences meant nothing to her. Rewards rarely motivated. Rational explanations riled her up. Ignoring her behavior ignited her anger. 

And me? I was a monster of anger. Hopeless anger.

The therapist gently listened and gently talked. She showed me what it was like to be heard. She pointed out to me how much love I had for my daughter. More importantly, she pointed out to me how much love my daughter had for me.

Really? I think I had forgotten she loved me.

She worked with my daughter too, but her gentle nudges towards connection with my daughter were the most transformative part of our therapy. We didn’t need more tricks; we needed connection.

So I began to hug. I hugged all the time, but I especially hugged when I felt like resorting to anger.

It healed. 

Every single time.

Every time I leaned in for a hug instead of leaned back to scold, we were healed.

Every time I chose to wrap my arms around her instead of wrap my anger around the house 300 times, we were healed.

And I couldn’t believe it, but the discipline issues began to diminish.

They didn’t go away completely, of course.

But there was something about connecting during those critical moments that made the defiance just… end.

It was a true miracle, and I needed to see if its power could be replicated on the other tiny humans in my house.

A scream from an angry child. A hug from a parent. A resolution soon found.

A defiant NO shouted by an anxious child. A hug from a parent. A calming; a step forward in peace.

The hug is a power I return to every day, all day, and it has not lost its effectiveness. Not once.

The biggest miracle may be that I am not as anxious and angry as I once was. When I began using hugs as my first step in discipline, I had to be conscious and careful. If I waited too long, I would be too angry to hug, and the moment would be lost. Touch is not my love language, and I had to almost force myself to hug in those frustrating moments.

But now it comes naturally. A child is upset? I give a hug. We work on their emotions together, and soon they either have a solution, or they’ve forgotten what made them upset in the first place. Of course, there are times when much more effort is needed after the hug. But the hug is always the right first step.

And it keeps my emotions in check more often.

Have you tried it? Does it work for you? Tell me your experiences.

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