I really don't like the term "power struggle."  When parents, teachers or childhood experts use this phrase, they are usually talking about a battle for control or dominance.  Families seem like the last place to me that such struggles should occur.  Remember, we're talking about a family where parents waited with baited breath for their little one's arrival.  Books are read about feeding, nurturing and bonding with baby.  Yet months later, a haggard set of parents start talking about "power struggles."  Parenting is not about controlling or dominating, but about empowering, teaching and guiding. 

Let's look at an example.  Marcus hates the taste of green beans.  He gags at the mere smell of the little morsels on his plate.  Mom wants to make sure that Marcus has a balanced diet, so includes green vegetables in the family meals.  The first time that Marcus shows an aversion to green beans is in toddlerhood when all food is eaten with little fingers.  He picks up a plump bean from his plate, and plops it into his mouth.  His face immediately contorts, he gags and spits the green bean out.  Initially, Mom and Dad think it is funny and chuckle in response to his outrageous facial expression.  Now does anyone honestly think that a toddler is out to "control" or "assert his power" by not eating the green bean?  Of course not!  But somewhere Mom or Dad remember being "made" to eat something they disliked.  They heard about starving children in other countries who would be grateful for such food and were made to sit at the table until their food was gone.  This distant memory influences their behavior in the current situation and these parents begin to "parrot" some of what was said to them and try to assert their power in this situation.  Marcus, balks.  He knows he doesn't like those yucky green objects on the plate.  He is afraid to try them again.  He hates the feeling of gagging or throwing up and naturally tries to avoid this.  Parents begin to interpret his unwillingness to eat this food as stubbornness.  A "power struggle" is born.

These unique little children in our lives who are made up of 50 trillion vibrating energetic cells have preferences just like we do.  Just because they are smaller beings, does not mean that their desires shouldn't count.  A child's inclination or desire is valid as long as it is not dangerous.  In the previous scenario, Mom can add other green vegetables, or a vitamin to her child's diet.  Further, Mom can say, "You don't like green beans right now, do you?  Maybe some day you will grow to like them."  In this way she is supporting his very real dislike of green beans, while introducing the concept that all dislikes are not necessarily permanent.  Mom is modeling flexibility and tolerance.  Marcus is much more likely to ask to try green beans again months or years later if he doesn't feel forced to do so in the present.  He may find that he still dislikes them, or maybe his tastes will have changed and matured by that point.  Whatever the ultimate outcome, Mom has contributed to raising a young man who not only knows what he likes and dislikes, but is respectful of other's choices as well.

I am reading a fascinating book about cell biology.  I've learned that the human body is comprised of about 50 trillion cells, an almost mind blowing fact when you consider that the 50 trillion cells began as just two little cells joining and subsequently dividing.  These vibrating cells energetically talk to each other as they unite to form a physical body complete with skeletal, vascular, and central nervous systems.  To further complicate this system of cell reproduction, genetic code influences the grouping of cells.  Thus, each person is physically unique.  The fact that life begins so simply and culminates in such complexity is miraculous to me. 

Too often, we cease to marvel at who are children are a few years after childbirth.  We get caught up in the challenges of daily living and forget the miraculous series of events that took place in order to produce such an exceptional human being.  The newness wears off and instead of bragging about who are children are, we complain and commiserate with each other about the challenges of parenting.  Having read this book, I don't think I'll be complaining any day soon, for I am once again captivated by the wondrous and distinctive characteristics that make up my children and yours.