Songs come unbidden to my head or lips at times. Uncanny, like a dream.
Last week, I picked up a copy of How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish at the library. This is my third or so perusal through this classic book on family communication.
Each time I pick up this book, published thirty years ago, I feel like someone is giving me a hug and gift and a monumental task all at the same time. Most times, I skip ahead to the section I need the most, or thumb through book and read the cartoons scattered throughout.
With over 300 pages to potentially read, I am glad that someone figured out that pictures with dialogue are really helpful for busy parents. For the deeply hidden girly girl in me, the book includes questionnaires. Just like Seventeen magazine had when I was a girl!
I am not a big fan of self-help type books. Many seem like they could have saved a few plantations of pulpwood and simply been published as a pamphlet. Some seem too simply written and lack real blood and meat, so I skip the author's ponderous philosophy and (to me) dubious references/cited studies/experiential claims and read their client's case histories instead. There, I can get a dose of:
1.) Holy crap, is this book describing my family? And, I just can't see it? Or, can I see it? Are we this bad?!?!?
2.) Holy crap, are we headed this direction if we don't follow this self-help program?
3.) Holy crap, these people have problems.
Some self-help books are really aggravating, often because I find their premise or approach problematic. Other times, I find the book annoying because I stubbornly refuse to be put in a psychological box.
But, shoot, How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk, I like this one. Today, I leafed through the book, read a chapter introduction, a few cartoons, and a took a quiz or two. I snorted with laughter and accepted my hug from authors Adele and Elaine.
Yes, I choose to accept this mission of improved communication in the home. Ladies, please don't let this book self-destruct in five seconds*. Because remember way back at the beginning of this writing when I mentioned uncanny song lyrics popping into my head?
When I saw the copy of How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk, blues singer Koko Taylor howled this in my head:
"Save me, save me, save me, babe!"