“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

I’m so moved by all of you out there.  Many of you reponded privately to my last post with touching words of gratitude and relief.   I knew there was a need for recognition and validation of the hard work parents do.  I knew we needed to build up our community, not tear it down;  I just didn’t quite know what a nerve it would touch.  Thanks so much for sharing your stories with me. 

It’s clear we need to uplift one another, but somehow we rarely do so.  Perhaps we’ve just forgotten how or can’t find the words to say.  So in that spirit, I offer some tips on how to encourage a mom.   Share one with your friends, family, or an acquaintance; say them to someone who needs a lift; or simply say them to yourself.  Often. 

When it comes to effective praise and encouragement, a few simple elements make all the difference:

1)  Notice details.

2)  Appreciate the impact.

3)  Make it stick with evidence. 

Here are a few ideas.  They may be a little fantastical, but wouldn’t it be nice if someone said something like this to you today?

I noticed you delivered multiple children, lunches and backpacks to school, fully dressed and fed with only a few remnants of breakfast on their shirts.  Congratulations!

I noticed you held your composure while your child threw a fit.   I was really impressed that you didn’t give in.   You inspire me.

Wow, I really enjoy listening to a little one’s happy squeals and babbles.  It’s been so long since I’ve been around those baby sounds.  Music to my ears. 

I love that you let your children choose their own clothes.   They learn  how to dress for the weather that way.   That’s much more important than matching socks. 

Hey, I’m glad to see your children eat treats sometimes.  It makes the rest of us feel normal too. 

Oh, I remember those days of struggle.  I can see you’re doing all the right things.  Don’t worry, this season will pass. 

Oh, I’m sorry it’s been a difficult day.  It’s okay for your kids to hear your frustration.  It will help them learn to work through their own problems.   How can I help?

Oh, I’m sorry you feel like you messed up.   Kids are resilient.  Your authenticity and request for forgiveness will make a worthy impression.

Thank you for keeping the house from dissolving into chaos today.  I know you’ve probably picked things up seventeen times already.  It’s a nice to come home to a welcoming place. 

Thanks for loving our children instead of fussing with the house today.  I know you focused on what’s more important.  Would you like a break now?

Thanks for working all day, taking the children to and fro, and figuring out what to feed them.  How can I help tonight?

Find a mom who needs some encouragement today.  She might just be you.  What will you say to her?  Go ahead, do it now.  Just begin with, “I noticed. . . “

photo credit: nathalielaure

She has that look — a shell of the formerly vibrant, social woman clinging to her last rope, reaching for a shred of hope as the overwhelming waves of chaos crash toward her again.  I know it well.  She’s usually in the back row of my parenting presentations, or quietly listening at the moms’ social outing, and she needs someone to tell her things are going to be okay. 

She may be the mother of a colicky baby, a defiant toddler, a learning-challenged fourth grader or a rebellious teen.  She may have wonderful, well-adjusted children but still feel completely overwhelmed by it all.  She also might be a he, of course, who feels like he’s the only one out there forging uncharted territory.  She might get paid to work (or not), but it doesn’t matter.  She loves her child with every ounce of her soul, and she treasures those moments of joy, but she still feels like she can’t pull it together like all the other parents seem to do. 

I know this woman because I have been there.  I am she, and she is we, and we need to do a better job reaching out to that person. 

Parenting is one of life’s most rewarding and toughest challenges, and anyone who says otherwise is not telling the whole story.  Yes, some flow through it more naturally than the rest of us do, but I don’t think it was ever meant to be easy.  Perfect parenting is a myth.  June Cleaver and Carol Brady do not exist in the real world, and the SuperNanny doesn’t even have her own children.  The difficulty isn’t necessarily bad: parenting is a great opportunity to for adults to stretch and learn beyond our imagination, and working through tough challenges is an amazing way to grow.

But I don’t believe we’re meant to face that challenge in a vacuum. We need a friend to hear about our latest episode and offer ideas to face the next one. We need someone to help us see the long view and assure us that we didn’t scar our child for life this morning. We need a frequent reminder that kids are resilient, that our mistakes are forgiven and that next time, we will respond better. We need a friend who pulls us out of that ocean of diapers and tantrums and shines light on the moments we can laugh about and celebrate. We can’t expect all that from one person: we need a community of grace.

So let’s make a pact to skip the judgement, finger pointing and mommy wars. Let’s stop competing over food, child care, schools and activities. Let’s reach out to one another and offer support.

What if we sat next to that woman in the back row and listened to her story? What if we reached out to the parent whose child misbehaves in school? What if we remembered how hard it is to simply get out the door with young children and congratulated that mom for a job well done?

Just for today, let’s stop pretending we have all the answers. Let’s hold back our judgment and encourage one another. It will make a huge difference to that struggling parent. And I bet it will make your day a little brighter too.

It works for me. 

photo credit: Béni Rivière

It happens every night.  Somehow, she shuffles around in her sleep, rolling into a little ball and piling the puffy down cloud on top of her into a mountain of coziness.  She’s deep underneath in her warm sweet slumber, and it’s my job to coax her out to greet the morning.

It’s my favorite part of the day.  After her brothers have caught the early bus and before the chaos of the day begins, just she and I steal a few precious moments of our own.  When I’ve planned it right, I slip in under the cloud and spoon around her, soaking in the radiant heat of her skin and the scent of her shampooed hair.  She mumbles a little and we snuggle as long as we can.

Has it really been almost nine years since I held this babe in my arms, nursing her to sleep, cherishing every moment with my last, littlest one? 

She’s not a babe anymore.  She’s lean and long.  I can’t reach the full length of her legs, and when she jumps into my arms, my back aches.  I catch my breath when she saunters up the stairs with a slight sway of her hips –not on purpose–  just naturally feminine. 

There’s trouble ahead; I’m sure of it.  The posturing and friendship dramas already flare upon occasion, and I have no doubt there will be more to come.   But there’s also great joy in the glimpses of profound thought and compassion that arise more often as she grows.  

I cannot stop the flow of time.  I don’t really want to. 

So today, I savor a snuggle with my baby girl.  I never know how many more mornings like this we’ll have.

This is part of Tuesdays Unwrapped at Chatting at the Sky.

“Mom, I just can’t stand to be in the same room with them anymore,”  she said, with tears welling up in her eyes.  “No one understands how bad they make me feel.” 

I felt the puddles well up in mine too.  The constant banter of put-downs slung between siblings over the long holiday was taking its toll.  My daughter was playing the victim in this case, but I knew it wasn’t a one-way street:  I’d witnessed plenty of antagonizing behavior from all three corners of this tumultuous triangle. 

I know sibling rivalry is a natural thing, and I do believe people can’t live together without some frustrations and annoyances.  With two middle schoolers clamoring for status, and a third grader trying to keep up, sarcasm and insults have invaded our home.  They’re tough pests to eradicate.  I want my kids to develop lasting relationships that will carry into adulthood, so I try to help them work out their differences with respect. 

Lately, though, I had fallen into the easier habit of scolding the offender when I caught wind of it:  “We don’t talk to each other that way in this family,” or “If I hear one more put down, you’re losing a privilege.”   The problem was, one child tended to be the target of the scolding.  Although he was typically saying the most outrageous things, I wasn’t catching the stealthy jabs of one or the incessant attention-seeking of the other.  The oft-scolded child was feeling resentful, the youngest was encouraged to tattle, and it simply wasn’t getting any better.   

It was time for an intervention.

I called them together and asked her to tell her brother what she shared with me.  As she began, the defenses shot up:  “That’s not what I said!  She constantly accuses me . . . ” So I had him explain his point of view, and his sister eventually admitted her role in the battle.  I asked them how they really felt when they picked on each other like this.  “It’s not getting us anywhere,”  one finally said.

Exactly. 

To shift direction, I asked them to write down ten things they appreciated about one another.  “Real things about the person,” I urged, “not ‘I like your shirt’ or something shallow.”   Typically, my kids sulk away with such an assignment but come up with pretty good comments when they’re left alone to write. 

To my surprise, middle son started talking aloud.  “I really like playing games with you when we’re not angry,” he said.  “I kind of like it when you act crazy,” she responded.  “I like seeing you laugh,” he added, “and I like it when you make me laugh.”    They went on for awhile, fondly remembering the fun they enjoy together.  My favorite comments:  “I like it when you come in my room when I cry”; “Sharing thoughts with you,” and on both of their lists:  “I really like playing with the rats with you.”   Who knew those Christmas rodents would create harmony in our house?

When big brother walked into the room, he slung an insult out of habit.  The other two stopped him cold.  “Looks like you need to write down ten things you appreciate about us,”  his siblings ordered.   He sputtered and squawked for awhile, but they held him to it.  He came up with a pretty good list, actually.  Number six: “I enjoy playing with the rats together.”     

Maybe there’s hope for this trio of siblings after all.  I know the harmony won’t last long, but I’ve got some lists to remind them (and me) of those happier times together.

And when all else fails, just let out the rats.

photo credit: Laenulfean

My middle son (age 11) is a dramatic one.  He loves goofing around, speaking in funny voices, and even dressing up upon occasion.  He’s always dreamed of being an actor.  I have no idea whether he’d be good at it, but I do know he would have a blast. 

But he doesn’t like to be pressured.  He wants to know exactly what to expect.  And the most important thing in the world right now?  His friends.  Of course, that’s the nature of 6th grade:  those other tweens know so much more about the real world–at least what’s cool or interesting– than mom does.  If mom thinks it’s cool, it’s most likely not.  That’s probably my fatal flaw.       

When the opportunity of the all-school play arose, I was sure he’d want to join.   This isn’t a dweeby activity–the annual play at our middle school is a huge event.  Everyone who makes the commitment is accepted, and last year, almost 200 kids danced and sang their way through Bye Bye Birdie.  The community support for this gig is unbelievable.  My son saw the production and clearly announced he wanted to join as soon as he could. 

That was before he started talking to his new 6th grade friends.  Most haven’t experienced any of these productions, so they rejected the idea of putting themselves out there.  What self-respecting 6th grade boy would do such a thing?  

Except we all knew this activity was perfect for this 6th grade boy.   That is, everyone but my son knew it, and the unknown is to be avoided at all costs.   

So despite much encouragement, haranguing, pressure and bargaining, he dug his heels in deep.  I finally remembered to follow my own parenting advice:  let him make the choice.  If I forced him to do it, he’d probably keep arguing about every rehearsal.  The battle between us would continue, and he’d have a hard time enjoying the process on his own.  We’ve learned this the hard way on other matters, and sometimes I’m slow to learn. 

So we let him choose.  He’s not doing the play this year, and he doesn’t have to be in the shadow of his big brother (which probably was part of the issue).  He’s got two more years to see if he’s interested, and if he does, he’ll throw his whole self into it.  (And he’ll love it, mom knows!)

I think we all breathed a sigh of relief when the decision was made, and I’m fine with it now.  I love my kid for sticking to his convictions.  But I really hope he chooses to do it next year.

photo credit: Wootang01

This article from Chick Moorman and Thomas Haller always re-frames my thinking gives me a lift.  I’m printing my favorite snippets; please read the complete article here.

____________________________________________

Special Thanks This Thanksgiving
By Chick Moorman and Thomas Haller

Millions of parents will pause this Thanksgiving to do what the day was originally created for — give thanks for the many blessings that exist in their lives. . .But what if your appreciation this Thanksgiving took on a new look? What if the blessings you count this year included situations that aren’t usually regarded as helpful, useful or valuable? Consider the following:

Why not be thankful that your child is two years behind grade level in his reading ability? This struggling reader is giving you the opportunity to read to him regularly at night. This evening ritual will help build connectedness between you and your child while at the same time modeling your love for the printed word. Great literature can be shared as you simultaneously bond with your child. This opportunity is an incredible blessing. Appreciate it. . .

Why not be thankful that your teenager received a speeding ticket? Getting a ticket is not a bad thing. Not if your teen learns from it and slows her driving for the next year. If she takes personal responsibility, pays the ticket, and is more cautious about her driving, the ticket may well save her life or the life of someone else in the future. Bless the ticket and give thanks for its blessings.

Why not be thankful that your 8-year-old shoplifted in the grocery store? This is the perfect time to teach your child about shoplifting. Better now than when he helps himself to someone else’s car when he is 18. Teach him how to make amends. Teach him what to say as he returns the candy bars to the storeowner. Help him learn to articulate what he learned and what he intends to do differently next time. Bless this perfect time to teach lessons about taking things that don’t belong to you. Be grateful for the opportunity.

Why not be thankful that your youngsters track mud and sand into the garage and house? The next time you stand in the garage furiously sweeping sand and wishing that your children were better behaved; quietly remind yourself that one day you’ll wish you had sand to sweep out of the garage. Love the mud. Love the sand. Be grateful for the signs of the presence of children in your life. . .

Why not be thankful that your adolescent asked you about sex? This is a great sign. It means your child trusts you enough to talk to you about sex. It means she is not getting all her sex knowledge from the street. It means you have moved beyond “the talk” to having an ongoing, honest conversation about the important subject of sex. Congratulate yourself. It is a blessing that you are willing to fulfill that role for your child and that she is responding to it positively. Give thanks. . .

Why not give thanks that your child is spilling milk, talking with his mouth full, wiping cranberry sauce on his new pants, refusing to eat his vegetables, and interrupting his grandmother at the dinner table this day? It means you have more work to do as a parent. It means your job is not yet done. This is a blessing. You are still needed to help your child learn to pour milk more carefully, improve his table manners, learn to eat nutritiously, and show respect for elders. Give thanks for these opportunities. . .

This Thanksgiving remember that parenting is a ministry. It is a sacred role that you are being called to perform. Give thanks that you have been called. Give thanks that you are willing to step forward and accept that call. Appreciate that you are being shown the way. Celebrate yourself and your contribution to healing the planet by helping your children evolve into the people they were meant to be. You are a blessing to the world. Give thanks that you are up to the task.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Chick Moorman and Thomas Haller are the authors of The 10 Commitments: Parenting with Purpose.  Follow their parenting posts at Uncommon-Parenting.

Also, it’s not to late to join me in the 30 Days of Gratitude project this month.  Check it out here. 

photo credit: TheAlieness GiselaGiardino²³

Schedule a one mile “luggage walk” with their fully packed travel gear a week before departure:

Might seem silly, but it’s a very effective way to ensure they can carry all of their stuff.  

Sometimes the most brilliant strategies are the simplest.  

How do you get your kids to think ahead?

“It was crazy, mom,” my sixth grade son breathed when he burst through the door after his first middle school fun night.

“Is that good?” I wondered, my imagination filling with crazy things that could happen in middle school.

“I think it was the best night of my life!” he gushed. 

Whew.  I breathed a sigh of relief and basked in his excitement as he told me all about the pizza, the dodge ball, and the crazy dancing, with everyone jumping and shouting to the hippest tunes.  He demonstrated, jumping, bobbing his head and waving one arm high:  “You (bounce, bounce) change your mind (bounce, bounce) like a girl (bounce, bounce) changes clothes (bounce, bounce). . . ”  I was energized and exhausted at the same time, just watching him buzz through the joy of youth.

“Well, he’s an extrovert,” my rather introverted husband deadpanned.  An understatement, if ever there was one.  This son definitely draws his energy from the crowd. 

Fun nights are a huge improvement over the junior high dances I remember.  No longer do opposite sexes line up against the wall, awkwardly awaiting an invitation or hiding away in the crowd.  At our school, fun night includes options for the wild diversity of teen or tweenhood:  swimming, basketball, dodge ball, food, dancing (mostly in groups), or just hanging out.   Kids are given opportunities to find their comfort zone and revel in it.  Chaperoning one of these events is a fascinating window to the middle school habitat. 

Of course, there’s no escaping the complicated social dynamics of that age.  At any given turn, for mysterious reasons, one can slide from the top of this exciting roller coaster to the depths, wondering if he’ll ever rise again. 

For tonight, my boy is feeling the thrill of the ride, and I’m thrilled with him.  I hope that he hangs on to that confidence as the roller coaster lurches through its necessary twists and turns, the recent joy boosting him through the low scoops. 

And I pray that he stays safe and securely buckled for the duration.

photo credit: thecrypt

“I meet many parents who are trying so hard to be perfect parents, to make everything just right for their children, that they are draining away their pleasure in parenting.  They’re too exhausted and too unconsciously resentful to enjoy the amazing show of childhood. . .

. . . My advice to all of these parents is to tolerate some low-quality time.  Have a little less ambition for yourself and your children.  Plan nothing.  Disappoint your kids with your essential mediocrity and the dullness of your home.  Just hang around your children and wait to see what develops.  Strive to be a good enough parent, not a great one.  It can make everyone in the family relax, and paradoxically, make life richer.”

--from The Blessing of a Skinned Knee:  Using Jewish Teachings to Raise Self-Reliant Children by Wendy Mogel, Ph.D.

I print this not to be pessimistic, but with the hope of accepting and celebrating ourselves and our children right where we are. 

May we all remember to celebrate the joy of being good enough. 

Discuss.