SAW A BUG???  Call (not-to-be-named Exterminator)!

Think of the message this sends.  If I see a tiny bug, I should immediately freak out and call in the troops?  Even if it’s just a fly?  What if it’s a ladybug?  Have we gone so far that the sight of any bug should lead us to fog our house with pesticides, never mind the other risks of infusing this insect-killing chemical in our home?

Now let me be clear:  I’m no big fan of most bugs, and I’m not afraid to swat my shoe or pick up a can of Raid when the situation arises.  I did grow up in the New Mexico desert where tarantulas and scorpions visited upon occasion, and I did not enjoy it.  But I don’t want to overreact to every bug that flits by.  More importantly, I don’t want to teach my suburban kids to freak out at the sight of a benign bug.  That’s just silly.   They were here first, after all, and some bugs are meaner than others.  That’s my expert opinion on the biological technicalities.  For more information, check out Be Nice to Spiders, one of my favorite childhood books. 

Awhile ago, I witnessed a beautiful reaction to a bug “invasion” by my daughter’s second grade teacher.  A small, nondescript bug–it might have even been a spider–lighted on the shoulder of an oblivious student.  The other children began noticing and getting agitated.  When Mrs. K realized what was happening, she immediately stopped the class and said,

“Oh my goodness!   Look at this. . . you are so fortunate!   What an honor that he chose to land on you. . . let me just help you . . .” as she swept up the offending vermin with her bare hand, showed it to the children, pointed out its bug anatomy, walked to the door and gently released it outside. 

The children stopped in their tracks, instantly shifting from fear to fascination.  The targeted child never flinched and seemed privileged to be in the spotlight, rather than embarrassed.  They carefully observed the insect (or arachnid, I can’t quite remember) and actually learned something about it.  And they learned a critical lesson:  you don’t have to go into hysterics just because something unexpected happens. 

Insead of whipping up more fear, Mrs. K transformed the situation into an honor.  A great opportunity.  I’m so glad I was present for the lesson. 

photo credit: Claus Rebler

Now that fall is approaching full swing, are you having conversations like this?

How was your day? fine.

What happened at school (or work)? not much.

Wanna talk about it? not really.

It seems like no matter how hard I try, those questions never seem to elicit much information, especially as my kids grow older.  A wise school counselor once suggested phrasing the question differently to draw out more of a response.  Just begin with “I wonder. . .” and ask about a more specific scenario: 

I wonder. . . who you sat with at lunch today?

I wonder. . . how things went in math class?

I wonder. . . what kids do before the first bell rings?

Somehow, when I phrase my questions this way, my kids want to fill in the blanks for poor, clueless, curious mom.  They begin to open up and I actually learn something about their world away from home.   We have a real, back and forth, give and take conversation.  Amazing.

Try it today! I wonder how it will work in your family?

For more great Works for Me Wednesday ideas, go to We are THAT Family.

I’ve never felt so hip at a second grade event.

We’ve been hearing about Mr. T’s poetry night for weeks.  Mr. T is KN’s cool student teacher:  a gentle giant with big hair, big hands, and a big heart for kids.  We’d received at least three kid-scrawled invitations:  a command performance for the family, and I have to admit, some of us weren’t super excited.    At least there would be food.

The dinner exceeded my expectations.  Mr. T and his parents(!)  prepared delicious homemade lasagna.  In class, the children frosted cupcakes (okay, those were just what I expected) and studied fractions while they cut the fruit salad.   While the guests enjoyed dinner, Mr. T. whisked the kids away to prepare for the poetry reading. 

When they were ready, Mr. T invited us into the classroom “the K-T lounge“.   Slow jazz infused the air.  Battery-powered candles and tasty finger foods graced the cloth-covered tables.  A cozy lamp, bar stool and microphone invited poets to the front stage.

Clearly this was going to be something special.

In the lamplight, those precious children moved us.  They made us laugh, cry, and hold our breath as they worked to get out the words.  Every child in this class of diverse abilities and resources excelled that night.  Their families swelled with pride, and so did the kids.

Mr. T., with support from his amazing mentor, Mrs. K., went far beyond the call of duty that night.  He set high expectations, created a special mood, involved the whole community, and made memories that will last a lifetime.  

Most importantly, he instilled a passion for poetry in twenty-something second graders.

I offer thanks to Mr. T, Mrs. K, and teachers who go far beyond expectations to make a difference.  May they inspire a passion for teaching and life long learning in the next generation.

Check out more inspiring tributes over here:

These ten questions to re-frame parenting issues always stop me in my tracks and change my approach.  Thomas and I closed Saturday’s parent workshop with this list by Chick Moorman and Thomas Haller.   Feel free to alter for your student/spouse/partner/friend as you see fit:

1.                  What if you saw your child as wounded or confused instead of wrong?

2.                  What if you saw the mistakes your child makes today as a learning opportunity?

3.                  What if you saw the behavior your child is exhibiting as age appropriate?

4.                  What if you saw your child today as unfinished and simply on the road to becoming who he or she is going to become?

5.                  What if you saw your child’s behavior as a cry for help?

6.                  What if you saw your child today as a child of God?

7.                  What if you saw your child as a teacher who is offering you a lesson?

8.                What if you saw your child’s behavior as perfect for helping him learn what he needs to learn right now?

9.                What if you saw your child for who she is rather than who you want her to be?

10.              What if you saw your child as being in the right place, at the right time, doing the right thing, right now?

If we’re having trouble finding the answers. . . have we asked the right questions? 

Soak up more of Thomas and Chick’s wisdom at Uncommon Parenting.  If you’re curious about my parent coaching business, please visit Practical Parenting Workshops.

Make it a great week!

Not long ago, I was feeling hen-pecked.  Do you know the feeling?  Like everything I said or did was being corrected, or controlled, or re-directed, or commented upon.  It drove me nuts.

Until I realized it bugged me most because it was a reflection of my own behavior.  Isn’t that often the case? 

Yep, I’m really good at hen-peckin’.  I peck, peck, peck at my kids, my husband, and everyone around me.  I’m a control freak and perfectionist about some things, and I’m lazy about others.  So I want everyone around me to respond to my wise counsel about my persnickity things, but lay off of my lazy things.  I just want to relax sometimes, ya know?

So, after processing my annoyance, I offered thanks for the experience of being pecked-upon and made a vow to reduce peckin’ on my family.  I even started a post about it.  But I wasn’t making much progress.

Until I stumbled upon a lenten devotional about chickens, of all things.  Sheesh!  This verse  describes gathering the people “as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings“.   With love, and kindness, and comfort. 

It’s a different perspective for me.  I can still be a chicken (oh. . . I could go on with this metaphor. . .), but in a good way.    Now I can channel that peckin’ urge in a better direction. 

Cluck, cluck!

What about you?  Do you have any hen peckin’ tendencies?

Most parents in my workshops respond, “Good job!  Nice catch.  Beautiful picture.  Wonderful story.”

That’s okay, but it could be better.  I tend to hunger for more.  There’s a reason.

I’ve learned to think about two parts to every comment:

1. 1)  Our words (good job!)
2. 2)  The child’s internal words (”cool!” or maybe “whatever” or “not really“)

Which one carries more weight?  You got it — #2.  The internal words will create the tape that replays in her mind.  That’s the part that sticks.  We want to shape our praise so that she tells herself–internally–“I did a great job.” 

Typically, we evaluate or judge our child’s product or behavior (That’s “great”).  It may work temporarily, but for the long term we want our kids to evaluate on their own.   A confident person can self-evaluate without depending on someone else.  This is crucial in the teenage years, when peers become the ultimate resource.  Evaluations are also easy to discredit.  How many of us say, “This old thing?” when someone tries to compliment us?  Or when you tell a teen she’s beautiful or smart, does she believe it?

A better way:  Build confidence with evidence.  Use the phrase “I noticed. . .” 

Make your praise descriptive, like a video camera.  Notice the factual details, the effort, the steps toward success, and then replay it for your child. 

“I noticed you worked on catching that fish for 45 minutes.”  Then bite your tongue. . . and let the child think, “I’m persistent.  I did a good job.”

“I noticed Abby smiling when you helped her with that project.”  The evidence of Abby smiling is more powerful than telling him how nice he was.

“I noticed that sweater really brings out the color of your eyes.”  Teach your partner this one.  You might look in the mirror and actually believe it!

Everyone loves to be noticed.  Use “I noticed. . . “ and tell me how you notice the impact.

Do you live in or around Southeast Michigan?  Come learn The Six Best Parenting Strategies Ever with me and Thomas Haller on March 28th.  Click here to get the scoop. 

Go to We are THAT Family for more Works for Me Wednesday ideas.

Yes, this post first ran in October 2008.  Thanks to those of you who might be reading again.

How was your day? fine.

What happened at school? not much.

Wanna talk about it? not really.

It seems like no matter how hard I try, those questions never seem to get much information. A wise school counselor once suggested I use different words to ask the same question. Just begin with “I wonder. . .” and get a little more specific:

I wonder. . . who you sat with at lunch today?

I wonder. . . how things went in math class?

I wonder. . . what kids do before the first bell rings?

Somehow, when I phrase my questions this way, my kids want to fill in the blanks for poor, clueless mom. And I get more information. Amazing.

Try it today! I wonder how it will work in your family?

For more great Works for Me Wednesday ideas, go to We are THAT Family.

*Yes, this is a repost from the very early days of this blog.  If you noticed, my apologies, and thanks for sticking with me!

“Get dressed. . . you’ve got to eat breakfast. . .brush your hair. . . do you have your homework? . . . don’t forget your lunch. . . did you brush your teeth?. . .it’s really cold out there, make sure you wear your gloves. . . “

Now, don’t you think, after hearing this tape several hundred days a year, our children (or spouses?) would know what to do in the morning without our constant reminders?  Maybe not.  If we constantly remind them, there’s no need to remember on their own.  And whose fault is it when they get to school without lunch?  Ours, of course.  We didn’t remind them. 

There’s a simple solution:  Check Yourself

It works like this:

1. Set expectations
2. Provide a system for success
3. Say, “check yourself” and hold your tongue
4. Let the consequences do the teaching
5. Enjoy your coffee

This works wonders for kids of all ages.  When my kids were 4, 6, and 9, we created a simple checklist for morning, after school, and bedtime routines.   We talked about how this would make those parts of the day easier for me and for them.   I posted it on the door, and when morning came, I would just say, “check yourself” or “check the list.”  It took a bit of time to adjust, but soon they learned to take on responsibility for the routine.

The critical piece is this:  If they forget something on the list, we have to let the consequence happen.  So if he forgets his homework, the response is, “Bummer.  What are you going to do about that?”  Definitely empathize, but without “shoulds” and “I told you sos”.  We need to let the child be frustrated with his forgetfulness, not our blaming.  If we decide to rescue him (which I’ll admit I typically do once), be fully aware that it delays the lesson.  Chick Moorman puts it like this:

1. Rescue once? you’re a nice mom
2. Rescue twice? it becomes an expectation
3. Rescue three times?  Congratulations.  You have a new job. 

I hope to teach my children to self-monitor and take on little responsibilities, so they become responsible adult citizens of the world.  Also, I’m lazy and don’t want to do all the work around here.    

Do we still have chaotic, crazy mornings?  Of course we do.  I mess this up a lot.  But when I’m using this strategy, it works for me.  I hope it works for you too.

photo credit: bookgrl

Ashley dished a little attitude last night.

She’s the alternate internet persona for K, my almost-8-year-old daughter.  K created a fictional character named Ashley, a sassy little redhead with thin hair(??), fair skin and freckles.  I’m sure she would fit in perfectly at Camp Rock.  Anyway, to be clear:  This story is NOT about K (because that would be embarassing), but about Ashley.  Got it?

Ashley has a habit of picking up various dramatic affects and testing them on the family:  British accents, vogue poses, hair flips, big sighs, eye rolls, and lately, sassy comments.  The harmless posing amuses me, but I have little patience for any disrespectful attitude.  And last night, I was done.  Evil Mom (EM) had entered the building.

Long past bedtime, I pried her off the wii Boogie Superstar, a hip-hoppin’ combination karyoke/dance game.  Ashley is aiming for Superstar status.  She didn’t quite make it.  It was everybody else’s fault, of course.  And the drama ensued. 

I tried my mental mantras (what are they again?  Oh, yes:  empathy. . . this isn’t about me. . . who do I want to be?) but Evil Mom took charge.   EM politely asked ordered her to pick up the floor so she could find her bed and put on her pj’s.  Ashley flipped,

“Um, I expect a little help, Mom.” 

EM responded,

“I’m sorry.  I just don’t feel like helping you after you’ve disrespected me all evening,” 

and courageously deployed her father get her to bed. 

A few minutes later, EM stood down and I entered Ashley’s bedroom to kiss her goodnight.  She was sniffing and hicupping through sobs (ouch!) as she put away her clothes.   As I stepped in, she sweetly mewed:

“Mommy? 

You’re a really, really good mom. 

And when someone is a good mom, someone should (hiccup, sob–) tell her.”

Oh my.   I really, really didn’t deserve such a compliment last night.  But I gratefully accepted, apologized for Evil Mom, and we hugged and sniffled together for a long, long time. 

Yes.  There is grace in parenting. 

photo credit: betsyjean79

I know.  It’s a horrible thing to say, but when I’m self-absorbed, my thoughts get distorted and the Evil Mom tape starts playing in my mind.  I begin to believe my three charming children are doing everything they can to irritate, embarass, or distract me from the important things I need to do. 

Hopefully sooner than later, I remember that the most important thing I need to do is parent those children I love with all my heart (somewhere down deep in there).

For such moments, I’ve tucked away in my wee little brain some mantras to counter the Evil Mom impulse.  I hope you find them helpful too.

When Evil Mom thinks, “Why does (s)he do this to me?”  try thinking:

• This isn’t about me.  This is about a child who needs . . . (attention?  food?  love?  discipline?)
• This is normal for a _____ year old.   Toddlers throw tantrums.  Teens push buttons.   Some one-year olds bite.  Five-six year olds are “me” centered.  We still need to teach them what’s appropriate, but first we meet them where they are.
• Mistakes are permitted here.  We must offer forgiveness for our children and for ourselves.  There may be consequences, but also grace.

When Evil Mom laments, “This is terrible!”  tell yourself:

• This is perfect.   It’s a perfect time to try that new parenting technique.  It’s a perfect time to learn how to clean crayon off the wall, or what happens when you shoplift.   It’s a perfect time for my tween to learn about responsibility and consequences.  Better sooner than later, when the stakes get higher.

Finally, when Evil Mom worries, “What am I going to do?”  ask instead:

• Who do I want to be right now?   I can be a criticizer–I do that well–or I can be a teacher.  I can be a crazy screaming lady (also quite talented), or I can be cool and collected.  I can be serious, funny, sarcastic, or silly.  Often who I choose to be matters more than what I do.  Take a moment to decide who you want to be before you swoop in to act.  It can make a powerful difference. 

Today, after wallowing in self for many days, I re-play the mantras that help me parent with love and put Evil Mom out of commission.  It works for me. 

Please visit Uncommon Parenting by Chick Moorman and Thomas Haller who inspired this post.  Also check out Rocks in My Dryer for other Works for Me Wednesday tips.

photo credit: Tina Keller