“I can’t do it.”

“I’m no good at this.” 

“No one wants to play with me.”

or from yourself:

“I’m not one of those big-time bloggers.”

or

“I haven’t written a real book.”

So often we parents argue, countering, “Yes, you can!”, generating a back-and-forth argument, and causing our partner (adversary?) to dig in her heels.  The “I can’t” person gets defensive, adding strength to the argument just to convince the other person she’s right.  It doesn’t seem to help at all, does it?  In fact, we sometimes end up more convinced the original statement is right — or perhaps understated — and further from encouragement. 

Instead, empathize and just add the magic word:

“You can’t do it. . . . YET.”

“Okay, you’re not good at this. . . YET.”

“Today, no one can play with you . . . YET.”

And tell yourself:

“I’m not one of those big-time bloggers. . . YET.”

“I haven’t written a real book. . . YET.”

See the difference?  Three little letters validate the sentiment, open up the conversation, shift emphasis toward the goal, and create a sense of possibility. 

I’m trying to work it in more often.  I’m not quite there yet.  But I can feel it coming.

Visit We are THAT Family  for more Works for Me Wednesday ideas.

photo credit: nyki_mi

adapted from the archives

As he jumped in, I flashed back to five or six years ago.  I had almost forgotten the drama over this.

He’s my water boy.  He takes marathon shower/bath extravaganzas every evening, and as a preschooler he loved to play in the pool.  Suddenly though, he balked at swimming lessons:  too cold, too tired, or just too scary.  I tried all sorts of convincing and conniving, but to no avail.  He refused to participate, and I must admit, I was frustrated by the change of face.  Probably a lot more than he was.   

My friends with older kids assured me he would come around.  “It all comes out in the wash,” one mused.   “It’s the fearful fours/fives, when they realize there are real risks out there,” another encouraged.  But I selfishly worried about the long summer ahead and wondered if he would ever become a swimmer. 

Finally, I listened to the voices of experience and stopped pressuring him.  He gradually got wet, in his own time, on his own terms.  Then at last, we vacationed with friends and he started jumping into the pool with abandon.  Someone snapped a picture — much like this:

That photo was a perfect record of all that he, on his own, had accomplished in just a few weeks.  It also taught me that I don’t have to control every step along the way.  I enlarged the picture, bought a cool frame, presented it to him and asked, “Can you believe this is the same boy who wouldn’t even get into the pool at the beginning of the summer?”   He beamed at how brave he had become and displayed it proudly on his dresser.

Several years later, he’s much too big to worry about such little boy things, but that photo still sits on his shelf.  When he faces greater challenges, the photo reminds us how things can turn around with a little faith and patience.  It helps me remember that time and encouragement builds confidence far greater than pressure and punishment.   

And I will always smile when I watch him plunge into the pool.  

photo credits: Brian Auer, adwriter

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on flux

What do I mean by “flux of life”? 

From the Free Online Dictionary:

flux (fluks) n.  1. a. A flow or flowing.  b. A continued flow; a flood.  2. The flowing in of the tide

 

As a child, I anticipated a straight path to success.  I was an ambitious girl, coming of age in the 80s, believing I could “do it all.”  I dreamed of being queen of the corporate world and a beautiful family.  Then reality rushed over me.  In reality, my life has flux-ed through the seasons:

college:  a river of rapids and whirlpools–turbulent, challenging, exciting, invigorating

20s/early marriage:  forging a new stream, building my flow, enjoying a rising tide

working mom of two babies:  an unexpected flood.  trying to keep my head above water.  struggling to balance.  gratitude in surviving.  reluctant to get out of the exciting waters.

baby number three:  time to move out of the flood zone and crawl up on the banks.  watching the career stream flow by.  seeking stiller waters.  finding a new stream. 

 mom of three young ones:  depending on the day, a varying flux–a steady drip, like water torture (not my metaphor), raging rapids, floods, or flowing tides. 

today–three kids in school, flexible work:   feeling more buoyant.  negotiating a new stream.  anticipating more “flux” to come.

Along the journey, I fluctuate.  Sometimes I struggle.  Sometimes I know my choices are right.  As I adapt and evolve, sometimes I wonder whether I’m losing—or finding?—my true self.  Is this maturity, or weakness?  The blessings are abundant, but different from what I expected.  Can I ever go back to my original plans?  Do I want to?   In which stream do I want to row?

The flux metaphor works for me as I flow through life’s seasons.  How does it resonate with you? 

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

There are two parts to every verbal interaction with our kids:

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

Which one carries more weight?  You got it — #2.  The child’s internal words will repeat over and over again in his head.  We want to shape our praise so that he responds internally with “I did a great job.” 

When we say, “good job”, we are providing an evaluation or judgment of our child’s product or behavior.  That’s okay, but for the long term we want our kids to learn how to evaluate or judge behavior on their own.   A self confident person can self-evaluate without depending on someone else’s evaluation.  Especially in the teenage years, when peers become the ultimate resource, this is important.  Also, evaluations are easy to discount or discredit.  When someone notices how great you look, how many of us say, “This old thing?” or come up with a self-criticizing response?

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

Make your praise descriptive, like a video camera that records objective information.  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 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 notice the impact on your kids! 

Special thanks to mentor and friend Chick Moorman for teaching me this and many other parenting skills.

For more Works for Me ideas, go to Rocks in My Dryer.

photo credits: cobalt123, teapics, AperturePriority