The “Shark Music” We Hear in Difficult Parenting Moments

My younger daughter is rather spirited and prefers to do things on her own terms. This presents a lot of challenges, with plenty of opportunity for power struggles. For the most part the power struggles, while frustrating and at times even infuriating, are not really that big a deal—they’re usually not about safety and are rarely life or death situations. Every once in a while, though, one develops that really is a big deal. These ones can be extremely difficult to approach mindfully because the stakes seem so high.

Last spring, my spirited daughter had an ear infection and needed to take antibiotics to clear it. She actually likes it when she has to take medicine, so when we started the antibiotics I was hopeful that it would go well. Her first dose went generally well, and I was relieved, thinking the medicine wouldn't be a problem. Rookie mistake. That evening when I let her know she needed to take her medicine I believe her exact words, spoken with emphasis and at volume, were, "I am NOT taking the medicine, it tastes DEE-SGUSTING!"

Making this even more interesting and fun was the context for this. We weren't at home where we could work it out privately, we were staying with extended family for a holiday weekend. We had a completely full house, we were in the middle of a birthday celebration for my mother-in-law, and we were anticipating an even bigger Easter celebration the following day. So there was no pressure at all to get her to take the medicine quickly and quietly. Right.

Internally I felt quite a bit of panic. She was becoming very upset, and very loud, crying and yelling and insisting that the medicine was "DEE-sgusting" and she absolutely would not take it. I was worried about what would happen if she just refused to take it, if I couldn't convince her. Would I eventually have to force it and if so how could I possibly do that to her? I was trying to figure out how we could work this out with such a large audience. I felt pressure to fix it fast so we wouldn't bother everyone else. I was worried that it was going to be like this every time she needed a dose--this was only the second dose of 20. And so on.

The "what-ifs" were running rampant, causing a lot of stress and threatening to lead me to mindless reaction.

Dan Siegel, MD, a psychiatrist and neuroscientist, and author of “The Whole Brain Child”, calls these “what-ifs” and the stress/pressure we feel in these situations “shark music.” He likens them to the music that plays in the Jaws movies every time the shark is lurking somewhere waiting to attack, and he advises parents to “turn down the shark music” before they respond to their kids. I love this. Anyone who’s ever seen the Jaws movies gets the reference.

The previous night when she developed the ear infection we struggled. A lot. I didn't believe her. In my defense, we were at a stage when there were frequent, false, physical/medical complaints aimed at getting attention or getting sent home from school. I initially expected this was the same, and after a brief time of trying to give her a little cuddling and attention to, rather unsuccessfully get her to stop, I heard the shark music and wasn’t able to turn it down. I reacted mindlessly and not at all compassionately, desperately trying to “make” her stop crying and screaming in the night. When I realized in the early wee hours of the morning that something really was wrong, I felt terrible.

Perhaps because of this struggle, when she refused the medicine, I was very aware of the shark music I started to hear, and I turned it down. I focused instead on my desire to remain present, patient, and compassionate with her. Thank goodness. Somehow I managed to breath and hold on. I remained calm and met her where she was. I accepted that I couldn’t force her, let go of the “what-ifs”, and just stayed with her until we worked it out together.

It took an hour of soothing and talking, and a special treat (a few minutes watching a movie on my phone), but she ultimately agreed to take the medication, on her terms. She needed to control it and took just a little bit at a time. It was a long process, but we got it done.

I was relieved, but the “what-ifs” started again, “What if the same thing happens next time? What if it takes over an hour every time? What if she changes her mind and refuses next time?” Shark music.

Next time came and I prepared myself. That is, I accepted that it might be a long process and worked to breathe, stay calm, and remain present. This time it was easier, it probably took 20 minutes instead of an hour. The next time was even easier, and so on. By the end of the 10 days she was taking her medicine by herself, without a movie to distract her, and in just a few moments. She was also pretty proud of herself and gave me high fives every time she finished.

My point? None of the “what-ifs” happened. None of them. No shark. Not only did they not happen, but things got progressively better each time, and by the end she felt like she had accomplished something and felt proud.

The what-ifs were nothing more than my thoughts, which were nothing more than the reflection of the stress and pressure I felt because I didn’t have control over the situation. They were not predictive of reality, they were not reality at all. The only power they had was the power I could have given them over my response to the situation. They could have led me to handle things very differently, most likely with a much worse outcome, had I followed them down the rabbit hole. In letting them go, however, I remained in control of myself, allowed my daughter the control she needed over herself, and the outcome was really positive. As an added bonus, I think both my daughter and I grew because of the process.

When we hear the shark music—when feel that pressure and stress and we start with the what-ifs—a shark is lurking. That shark is the threat of mindless reaction. We, actually, are the shark, or at least the knee-jerk, reactive part of ourselves is. We need to decide whether or not we really want the shark to be the one parenting our children.

The trick is to “turn down the shark music,” which essentially means to practice awareness, acceptance, and letting go so that the mindless, reactive part of ourselves—the shark—is not the one in charge. When we can do that we are left with the more rooted, calm, and present version of ourselves. We are left with the parent most of us would prefer to have in charge.