Successful relationships require humility, that is, the ability to view our own wants and needs on a larger scale, which includes the wants and needs of others. As attachment parents, many of us know the importance of balancing our wants and needs with those of our child.
In marriage, this balance can be a bit more difficult, especially if our co-parent is not necessarily on the same page as us when it comes to parenting decisions. “They should know better” we argue, and too often lose our humility in dealing with adults. But, nobody is perfect.
When I first became an attachment parent, my husband didn’t immediately hop on board with all of the principles (and the resulting methods) that I was proposing we practice. And I must admit, the principles of attachment parenting and nonviolent communication didn’t quite carry over in the practice of my marriage.
Many times, I would tell my husband outright that his way of parenting was wrong, and that I was opposed to the way he was choosing to parent – the same way I had parented just months before. I pitted his actions against my philosophy.
What I failed to realize was this: While my parenting philosophy had changed, a change in my everyday parenting practices and reactions had yet to catch up. I had years of parenting beliefs and vices I needed to unlearn, and my husband was no different.
My arguing with him didn’t make him want to cooperate, but instead put him in a defensive mode. I wasn’t winning him over with this approach, that’s for sure!
What I was doing was the opposite of what I would want someone to do if I made a parenting mistake. I know I wouldn’t respond well if someone pointed out my every mistake in the heat of the moment. It almost always makes things worse.
I had my own parenting struggles, and he didn’t seem to respond to mine in the same manner. I realized what a hypocrite I was being.
Opening Communication
I decided to start showing some humility. Knowing that I still had my own parenting difficulties, I would share something I was struggling with, and ask for his advice.
It went something like this: “I really want to stop raising my voice at the kids, but it just seems to happen automatically when I’m frustrated. What do you think I should do?”
By humbling myself, they became “our” struggles, and we truly became partners on this parenting journey. Over time, once it became clear to him that I would no longer be singling out his behavior, he began to feel comfortable enough to open up to me about his own personal struggles.
Yes, it’s possible to feel connected to your partner even if you don’t share exactly the same views on parenting, and even if one of you has less visible struggles than the other. Some marriages require a bit more humility (read: balance) than others.
If you’re looking to open the lines of communication in your home, pick behaviors and issues that you both struggle with. Don’t single out something that only your spouse struggles with. Don’t use this as an opportunity to pick apart your spouse’s parenting. Be real. Be humble.
When we are humble, we can see that we are not “better” than other parents. We all have our hangups. We are all still learning and growing.
Tip: This also works with other family members and friends. And our kids!
In my parenting, the goal of obedience doesn’t exist. It’s important to emphasize the part about it being a goal. Notice that I didn’t say, “Obedience doesn’t exist in our household.” I mean that our children’s obedience to my husband and me is not something we specifically aim for.
I get its importance, though, and I understand why parents expect it. It’s nice! And sometimes necessary. We tell our kids to do things because we want them to be safe and healthy. Most directions are not urgent: It’s time to get your shoes on. Please clear your plate. Go throw your garbage away. Though some directions are: STOP! (running in the street). Since we give a multitude of necessary directions every day, compliance is certainly a nice perk, not to mention needed.
But it’s also important to keep in mind that kids under age 7 are going through crucial periods of development of their autonomy and will…certainly the toughest years for expecting obedience. This is not to say I don’t have any expectations of my kids. I do.
I expect them to have feelings. My wishes may or may not line up with their objectives, and they will have feelings about that.
I expect them to express their feelings; to feel free to communicate with me at a level that is appropriate for their development.
I expect them to help take care of themselves.
I expect them to contribute to the family and household.
I expect them to be autonomous; to do things for themselves.
I expect them to take initiative; to have their own ideas and want to see them through.
I expect them to not like everything that needs to be done. I don’t. No one does.
When I shift my perspective on behavior and aim for an understanding, attached relationship rather than simple obedience, my children are naturally inclined to follow my directions. We have the kind of relationship in which, when I say, “STOP!” or “NO!” in a dangerous situation, they stop immediately. They’re not behaving out of conditioned obedience or because I have actively taught them to obey as one of my goals of raising them. They listen to me because of the status of our relationship. Our connection, combined with the notes of urgency and fear in my voice, creates a crystal clear distinction between this kind of communication and all of our regular daily interactions. There is no need for spankings, isolating time-outs, punishments, or shameful exclamations of “How could you do that?” and, “Just go to your room and stay there!” It’s because of the connected relationship I have with my kids that when I say “No” with authority, I don’t have to say anything else.
So, although my husband and I don’t expect obedience from our kids, we get it. Why? Why does it happen so naturally and willingly?
Because we recognize our kids’ objectives. We know that, as kids, they have other ideas and different priorities than we parents do.
Because we value their feelings. And we prove it by listening and accepting them on a daily basis.
Because we communicate with respect and empathy.
Because we aim for understanding…their feelings, their goals, their interests & disinterests. We make it a priority to know what makes our kids tick.
Because we value their uniqueness. The way they’re not like any other kids.
Because we aim to be aware of their levels of physical, cognitive, and emotional development.
All of this leads to a close, secure, attached relationship. My husband and I replace a goal of obedience with one of connection and trust instead. Because if there is connection and trust in a parent-child relationship, guess what comes naturally? Obedience. Children are drawn to “do right by” those to whom they are emotionally connected.
Do our kids ever “disobey?” Of course. But we don’t see it like that. We see all of these moments in which they’re “not listening” with an understanding of who our children are and what they need. It’s not personal, it’s developmental. I find that if I shift my perspective from You need to do what I say! to one of How can we solve this problem to meet everyone’s needs?, my directions do get carried out. I see ‘not listening’ as…
a child having strong, very acceptable, very human feelings. Children need validation and acceptance.
immature brain development. Children need time to develop brain connections necessary for self control and self-discipline.
an example of a child exerting autonomy and initiative. This is very developmentally appropriate; children need to be autonomous.
a show of distance in our relationship. Children need to feel a sense of significance and belonging.
Meet the needs, get the cooperation.
Instead of expecting obedience from my children, I have shifted my thinking to expect developmentally appropriate behavior. I understand my kids’ social, emotional, and cognitive capabilities, and I work on cultivating a relationship based on that understanding. By parenting not strictly for obedience, but for a combination of a connected relationship and authority, kids give their willing cooperation by default.
I wanted to share this letter below that I received today. I am deeply touched that this person, identity unknown, took the time to express himself so openly and honestly. I hope we can all read it and take something from it, whether we are parents or not.
Dear Sandy,
I’m probably not your average reader. I’m a single man without kids.
I take responsibility for the path I have chosen to follow in life and the dreams that have never come to pass because I have never followed them to see where they would lead. Still, there is a part of me that wonders how much different my life would be today if I had a mother who had loved me, the way you love your boys.
I wasn’t yet in the first grade and I remember going to bed at night, looking forward to the hugs and kisses my mom would give me. I loved her so much and couldn’t tell her enough times or kiss her cheek often enough. Then a moment would come, before bed, when she would tell me that she’d had enough and it was time for bed. I would ask her to tell me just one more time that she loved me and she would refuse, telling me that it was getting to be a bit much.
I would begin by asking nicely and when she refused to tell me that she loved me, just one more time, I would begin to beg, “mom, please tell me that you love me, please.” “No”, she would say. “Now go to bed and quit being a baby.”
I remember the feeling of going to bed wondering if I had upset my mom and if she even still loved me at all. In the morning, I would wake up and look for a smile on my mother’s face or a hug to reassure me that she did in fact still love me.
It was this one event that continually reoccured. She quit tucking me in at night because of the fuss it would cause and this is what began the deterioration of my self confidence. From that point forward I remember that I would never hear her say, “I love you” often enough. Even when she did say it, I doubted whether she really meant it or was just saying it so that I would behave.
The feeling of insecurity that comes from believing you must earn your mother’s love, is damaging beyond belief to a child. When I made this observation last week, I began crying uncontrollably.
I just want to say, “Thank you for showing me what love looks like.” From this one observation I have been able to take back control of my emotions and I have a confidence in myself that I have never had before. Now, for the fist time in my life I truly feel comfortable in my own skin.
Signed, Better late than never.
Thank you, Mr. single man without kids, for your kind words and for allowing yourself to be vulnerable. I respect you for looking at yourself, and your upbringing, and for being open to learning and growing. I am so happy you are comfortable within your own skin and I wish you so much love and happiness in this life. We all deserve to be loved and I do believe that the need for LOVE begins at birth and continues on always. I am so delighted that you get to move forward and live your life from a different perspective and with a newfound confidence. Much Love and Respect.
Please always tell the ones you LOVE that you LOVE them. Please do your best to show it by being patient, respectful, loving and kind. We all need to hear it and feel it. I choose Love always and I am sending my Love to all of you.
I’ve swept up the Art Room. This room is my writing room and has also become my son’s chaos room. He paints here, plays here, and learns here. It is a womb of flashcards, water color trays, brushes, paper, stuffed animals, clothes, crayons, play kitchen items, toy trains, race cars, and other toddler toys. There has been plenty of times when I had to use power washing dublin to clean my carpets full of paint and dirt from the backyard. Carpets shouldn’t stay damp for too long. Carpets and rugs are lovely, comfy and comfy . Used and maintained correctly, they’re ready to last several years, and become an origin of wonderful pride and happiness. But when not taken care of, unattractive damage could cause numerous problems. The key to any carpet treatment — vacuum-cleaning — must be consistent and complete. Some research has shown an honest vacuum-cleaning can eliminate up to 80% of soil inside a textured plush carpeting. supported use and placement, carpets must be cleaned by professionals carpet cleaning Ann Arbor annually , and spot cleaned as required within the meantime. Drymaster Carpet Cleaning has been operating in the Newcastle since 1990 and has the experience, equipment and procedures to service your premises.There are many varied methods of steam cleaning your carpets. The most common form of steam cleaning is a 1 stage process, where a cleaner will bring to your home a portable machine, similar to the machine that you can rent from the local supermarket or hardware store. This steam cleaning machine is filled with water and detergent and your carpet is cleaned without any pre spray or agitation. This method cleans your carpet without a rinse process and unfortunately leaves detergent residue in your carpet which will promote rapid re soiling. This steam cleaning method is over 20 years old and is not the preferred method by most carpet cleaners today, but unfortunately is still being used by a lot of budget type cleaning companies. Carpet cleaning experts in Newcastle also offers our customers the carpet Dry Cleaning method. Carpets are indeed one of the most important things that we can find in our homes. These can make or break the look the whole room. This is why most people always make it a point to have carpets in their homes so that their homes will look as elegant and as nice as they should be. This is true only under one condition. carpet cleaning usually look their best especially when they are still clean and new. A newly bought or installed carpet would always pull the look of the simplest room there is. Most carpet owners do make it a point to maintain the cleanliness of their carpets. We all know how carpets attract dirt so much. Even if we try to take care and keep our carpets clean, there will always be a stain that will begin to pop out of it. Once a carpet looks very dirty, this can now destroy the look of the whole room. This can now leave the room very untidy and not well cleaned. This is the primary reason why you should always maintain the cleanliness of your carpets all the time. Whether you do this on your own or you hire carpet removal service to do so, you need to make sure that your carpets look as new as they should. One equipment that has really made carpet cleaning such an easier but effective cleaning job is a vacuum cleaner. These are tools or equipment which are used to suck out dirt which are trapped within the fibers of the carpet. This is very effective when you want to remove the solid particles, allergens and the dust which have stayed in the carpet. Although cleaning the carpet thoroughly, removing the stains do need extensive cleaning procedures in order to remove them in the best way possible.
Ten minutes before I swept, it looked like a bomb of paper based material exploded. Add crayons, spoons, plastic play food, children’s books, stickers, paper, paint, M & M’s, and one toddler. Chaos.
My son painting in the Art Room. You can see the toddler debris on the floor.
The pile I’m looking at could be swept into a dustpan quickly. And then it would be gone.
But I have to sort out the debris. What is recyclable — at least the paper and plastic.
I’m tempted though to do one clean sweep then I could attempt to floor mop the wood floors. This is my favorite room in the house. It has twelve foot ceilings and pine wood floors with amazing detail that I got thanks to the work of the professional from Epoxy Flooring Bellevue. It has a south facing window which centers the room — one large window nine feet high by three feet. Visit website for more details about DIAMOND COATING EPOXY FLOORING OTTAWA.
A rare treat this past Saturday — a snowstorm with big chunky snowflakes. You can see the window to my art room in this photo.
This room is never organized completely, only at best, neatened up. My husband has recently installed a shelf system in the closet to organize my on-going writing and art projects. Confession: I am a pack rat and have kept every paper based memory and scrap of paper. I have all my art projects from elementary school (thanks to my mom). I have the first note a boy gave me in sixth grade asking me out. Check yes, no, maybe.
I have kept every letter and card I received as an enthusiastic pen pal writer in the 80’s, including letters from my pen pal from Japan and Costa Rica.
Check out that postmark — 1987, complete with a bubble gum scratch & sniff stickerPen pal letter from Japan
***
My feet stick to the wood floor. Invisible toddler tape perhaps. As Ben calls it, sticky gooey. Everyone is asleep as I pull it together to do the impossible — clean this room. My goal is to see the floor. I start with baby steps picking up loose paper. I recycle what I can. I take a deep breath and recycle the toddler art I don’t want to keep. Should I keep them all? For Pete’s sake — I have over ninety-nine. Throw them out. He will paint more. Trust.
My son’s art gallery in the Art Room
I pick up the books my son loves to dump from the toddler height bookshelf. The rest is a blur. A complicated system in my head of mathematical and analytic order takes over. I put things where I think they may belong. Piles. Lots of piles. They are off the floor for now.
What remains is still covering the floor: a pool of colored collage.
A blue plastic spoon with three vertical grooves lays angled across a scribbled toddler art paper. A crumbled napkin dyed with faded water color paints rests on top. A fluorescent pink index card with pen and ink scribbles hangs to the far right of the pile. The outfielder of the pile — catching loose grounders — about an inch away is a brown dog bone sticker the length of a penny.
A receipt for a failed fertility treatment from August 8, 2008 sits on top of the crayon stew. $244 reminding me of our desperation to be with child. Forever ago.
How did Ben find this bill? I know — he opened the file cabinet. The poor thing is shoulder height to Ben — completely accessible to his exploratory curiosity. (Yes, file cabinets have feelings; they like order — toddlers must make them nervous).
A black teaspoon lays across another fluorescent pink index card. A cardboard white cake mix box next to an empty ink cartridge. Crayons: thick canary yellow, yellow green, navy blue — all visible. Too much. I’m overwhelmed. I’m just going to sort out the paper, crusted in sticky toddler chaos boogers — subtract from the pile.
A black sock bundled. A page from Ben’s favorite book, Wacky Wednesday torn out. I can’t throw this away; it’s the eleven wild wacky things park scene. Ben loves to point them out. The page with the purple limo with the old lady in purple, pushing the yellow buggy on top of the limo.
A wild eyed yellow giraffe sticks his head out of a pothole.
Wacky Wednesday book
The pile is lessened: progress.
A copper penny: head’s up, 2002.
A crayon crumb collage, fit for 80’s wax paper iron art projects, on the back of a glossy 8 x 10. I scoop it up and use it as a dustpan, moved enough by the bright colors to take a photo. Too lazy to find my camera, I toss the debris in the garbage.
Flipping the photo over, I see my fourth grade class from 2008. I was so hungry to be a mom in that photo: infertile. I put the photo on top of the printer paper atop my scanner.
The pile still there on the floor.
Next, fetch the plastic Ziploc bag for the crayons: thick purple broken tip still sharp; navy blue — the triangle grip; a plastic crinkle cut French fry (I hate these tiny outliers too tiny for toy bins). I’ve been throwing them away one by one, even though they fit neatly into the red McDonald’s fry holder, which I hate and soon it will get the cut. I’ll recycle it though.
The plastic corn ear goes into the keep pile. Place white play cake mix with it. My son thinks he is Chef Ramsey. All play kitchen items are keepers.
My therapist’s card (currently going to grief therapy) — I need to call her and make an appointment. This goes on top of my desk.
Blue M & M — throw it away. Maybe eat it.
A scribbled passage for a book I am working on — into the closet.
Yellow green, verde Amarillo, verte-jaune goes into the bag. An orange colored pencil soon behind it.
Turquoise thick Sharpie — no cap, dry as the desert.
Recycle?
Red crayon, red colored pencil. Cheap Rose Art red crayon, orange stub, green stub, thick blue, thin black, thick brown, thick blue — the other half. Royal blue plastic spoon — pile with black teaspoon.
More crayons: purple, navy blue, thick orange, thick red — sticky vegetable potato chip crumbs rolled around it like a Yule log.
Joan Miro eraser
Joan Miro 97 eraser from the Denver Art Museum — bought single, bought solo — a lifetime ago.
A persuasive journal prompt, a rogue teaching resource unearthed and liberated by my son from it’s tidy box.
Art Blast washable water colors packaging — not a good idea unsupervised. At least I can recycle the packaging: cardboard.
My son, Ben painting his masterpieces
Another persuasive writing prompt card.
I think a piece of dried poop was on the white index card.
A pastel purple index card.
I smell poop. Affirmative on the poop crumb.
Wow, I keep everything (not the poop); I should have just swept all this stuff up.
A brown twig.
My friend’s self-published poetry book makes the cut, only because it is inscribed and has “Congrats on the baby” on the inside cover — a reminder of graduate school and my miracle pregnancy.
I’m tired and sleepy. The rest of the pile is going into the dustpan, which actually is just non-recyclable garbage.
I walk by the window, curtains open and turn off the light sneaking a peek at the beauty of this room — the chaos of this room and marvel at the chaos tidied up (for now).
Stained glass fleur de lis my husband made sitting in Art Room window
What are the things you hold onto and what are the things you throw away? How do you keep your child’s playroom tidy?
I’m hard core when it comes to attachment-minded parenting practices in my home. I’m full-on natural birthing, breastfeeding, bedsharing, holding baby all the time, stay-at-home mommying or bringing baby to work with me, and loving guidance—which is why it surprises people that I don’t automatically condemn other parenting styles. For example, in another post, I made a statement that I don’t find spanking to be necessarily abusive and one person commented that this was Attachment Parenting heresy.
No, I don’t think that spanking has any place in an AP home. But, I’m also not naïve enough to think that spanking doesn’t sometimes happen. It may not be spanking—for some of us, our vice is yelling or sending a child to his room. We all make mistakes, and the idea that an AP parent never loses her cool is unrealistic. As importantly, we are all in different places on our own parenting journeys and just because a parent is still working on her issues and emotions doesn’t make her a bad parent.
When I work with parents, it’s important to remember that my role is not to change their minds about parenting, but rather to present them with the most up-to-date information regarding childrearing and then to support them in making their own decisions. I’m not the parenting police, so if a parent is spanking her child, it’s not my role to tell her to stop it. Rather, I can offer her information regarding the effects of punishment versus non-punitive discipline and then offer suggestions on moving toward a less punitive environment. But it is her choice, of course, to pursue that path. And it is my responsibility to not judge.
I cannot know what all goes into another parent’s choices. I may know a little, but even her or his spouse or partner likely doesn’t know the whole story. The parent her- or himself may not fully know.
It can be difficult to apply the AP mindset to our adult relationships, because after all, we’re adults and shouldn’t we know better? But once we’ve mastered what it takes to have a secure parent-child connection, taking it to the next level – with our spouse, our own parents, our friends, strangers in the car ahead of us that just cut us off, the really rude woman in line at the cash register, and so on – is the next frontier.
Of course, I’m not talking about bedsharing and breastfeeding when it comes to applying AP to adult relationships, but rather the attitude of unconditional acceptance and loving support. AP isn’t about whether or not we do certain parenting techniques but rather about the attitude that we’re bringing with those techniques. Spanking just isn’t of unconditional love; it’s of control and trying to change a person by force, rather than empowering that person to change themselves through their own choice.
It’s this attitude change that makes AP successful in families. If parents focus just on the parenting techniques themselves—to not punish, but without the AP mindset—they’re going to end up very frustrated and regressing again and again, or else confused or unsure about limits and therefore permissive.
The best way to teach AP, whether to our children or to our spouse or to another adult in our lives, is to model it. And judging others isn’t AP. We have to learn how to meet parents where they’re at in their parenting journeys right now, not where we think they should be, and to provide them the support they need to meet their goals of raising a secure, trusting, empathetic, affectionate, and joyful child.
By the time my daughter was 2 years old, I had completed treatment for cancer. Still very ill, I was on a quest to find health. I understood cancer to be an environmental disease, and while I could not say I knew what had caused the disease, I thought if I made enough changes, I could remove the underlying cause.
I took up yoga, among other practices to cultivate health. I gained so many healing benefits from the practice, especially working with sound and breath, and before long, I found myself engaging in a daily meditation practice.
At first, I would meditate after Kaylee would go to sleep. It started with a few minutes a day. After a few months, it was over an hour.
In every other aspect of my life, I was more calm and perceptive. The benefits of the practice were clearly evident and had a positive impact in my relationships and my ability to parent.
But, it was really hard to do. How do you meditate with a little one by your side?
If I got out of bed in the morning, she would wake up. Upset and overtired, it would make a difficult day for us both. When I waited for her to go to sleep, I was often too tired to stay awake.
The more serious I became about the practice. The more annoyed I was if Kaylee woke up. If I heard a noise come from the bed, my heard would jump as I feared an end to my blissful retreat.
By the time she was 3, I had many incidents of being irritated and having an overtired child who woke up alone and upset.
I also went to a plant medicine retreat to do my meditation and that was life changing for me.
At some point, I was at a dinner party and heard a story about a little girl who sat cross legged with her hands in gyan mudra (thumb and index finger tips touching) resting on her knees. The little girl then grimaced and yelled “MOMMYS MEDITATING!” Everyone laughed at the irony while I completely connected with the situation.
While the practice had helped me be a better mother at every other moment, I was not responding with Love and patience during practice.
It was clear, something needed to change.
And then, I got it.
This practice of meditation. Of being in the moment. Of activating the healing side of myself. Of taking it breath by breath, moment by moment. It was very similar to the experience of loving my daughter. Loving her without the judgements or fears. Those moments where its just her and me and it doesn’t matter what else is around or what needs to be done.
Moments of unconditional Love.
I decided that instead of trying to fight my daughter, I would work her into the practice. Instead of leaving bed to meditate, I would simply sit up in bed. Instead of trying to meditate after she fell asleep, when I was too tired, I would put her to sleep in my lap while I meditated (this was and continues to be great method of getting her to fall asleep!). If she woke up during my practice, I would invite her to join me and give her a hug. If that meant I didn’t get more than 3 minute intervals of concentration or my eyes were open the entire time or I really didn’t meditate at all, that was okay.
My intention was on Love. Once I opened myself to how I experienced that Love, the practice became more deep and the experience of my daughter transformed. I also found that if I took breaks while meditating to interact with her, she would happily play around me and give me some space.
Some days she even sits next to me, cross legged, hands in gyan mudra and tells me, “I’m meditating.”
While it isn’t easy to meditate with a toddler or preschooler climbing all over you, it is possible. The key is in remembering that meditation is not about being calm during a moment of peace. Its about cultivating the ability to have peace during a storm, whether that storm lives in experiences in our days or the expectations in our minds.
And what easier way to prepare then to practice in a storm everyday?
Recently, I was chatting with a mom at the playground about kids’ behavior, and she commented to me that kids need praise and approval from their parents, as there are too many dysfunctional adults in the world to indicate otherwise.
To this, my response was, “I think what they need more than praise and approval is encouragement and acceptance.”
“Isn’t that kind of the same thing?”
Not really.
I understand where she’s coming from; she means that many adults have emotional and behavioral problems because growing up, they needed something from their parents that they simply didn’t get (or didn’t get enough of). I agree. And this thinking–that kids need an abdunance of praise from their parents in order to grow up confident and emotionally stable–is not uncommon. The thing is, it’s not actually praise and approval kids need.
You may argue this is just semantics, but it’s really so much more.
When I hear people say that kids need praise, what I think they really mean is encouragement. Praise is superficial and non-descriptive. It’s “Good job,” or, “I like that” or, “That’s a pretty picture,” or, “Excellent work.” It’s generic and leaves a person wanting more, needing more…not feeling quite satisfied. Our self esteem might be high while we’re receiving praise, but if it ever stops, we either seek out more or get discouraged about its absence. Praise is an external motivator and must be constantly applied to remain effective.
Encouragement meets the same purpose as praise and speaks to a more meaningful sense of accomplishment. Encouragement gets to the “why” of praise. It communicates what’s so ‘good’ about something, why we’re proud, what we love about it, or the qualities that make it excellent. Encouragement takes praise a step further with messages of effort, persistence, thought…the deeper reasons behind why someone should be proud of their accomplishments.
Good job; you worked so hard on that!
That’s a pretty picture; there’s so much detail in there.
I’m proud of you; that took a lot of patience and you never gave up.
And it’s the encouragement that’s important. The praise can stay or go (some would argue that it should go), but the words of encouragement are all a child really needs to hear. If the feedback they hear from you is, “You worked so hard,” or, “Boy, there’s so much detail in your painting,” or, “That sure took a lot of patience,” there’s nothing lost and a lot gained. It’s the same message of enthusiasm that is now focused solely on the child and the things we value: effort, hard work, persistence.
But, you may ask, without the good job we’ve taken out the part about our approval, haven’t we? If we never say “Good job,” or, “I like that,” or, “I’m proud of you,” they’ll think we don’t approve of their work–of them–and have low self esteem, right? Won’t they always be seeking approval?
Not if we’re communicating effectively; deeply. If all we ever offer is the superficial stuff, the blanket praise without any meaning behind it, kids will always seek approval because they’ll never feel satisfied. But if we’re offering meaningful and genuine encouragement for their achievements, they won’t need our approval. They’ll approve of themselves.
So, more accurate than saying kids need a parent’s approval is to say they need our acceptance. Kids don’t need us to approve of everything they do, they need us to accept everything about who they are. Yes, even the mistakes, the misbehaviors, the unpleasant feelings they sometimes often express. We don’t have to approve, but we do need to accept. It’s the acceptance, not the approval, that works miles towards developing long term relationships and teaching discipline, responsibility, confidence, and self-love.
We accept children by hearing their feelings without judging them, by empathizing without evaluating, and comforting without criticizing. We accept that they had a bad day and their behavior is reflecting their feelings. We accept that sometimes they make mistakes, sometimes they need to cry, sometimes they don’t behave perfectly. That doesn’t mean we approve of the harsh language, the harm they inflict on others, or damage they may cause to personal property. But we accept it is a part of being human, growing up, and learning to manage big feelings and fix mistakes. We accept them for who they are today, right now. And we’ll do the same thing again tomorrow. And again every day until they’re all grown up. And even then too.
A parent’s approval will never matter to our children as much as our acceptance will. We don’t have to approve of anything our children do if we can accept everything about who they are.
It’s not semantics, it’s perspective. As soon as we understand there’s a difference between praise and encouragement, approval and acceptance, we begin to interact more authentically with our children. With encouragement and acceptance comes the development of a child’s self confidence and the ability to rest in the security of an unconditional relationship.
A portion of this post has been excerpted from Encouraging Words for Kids, by Kelly Bartlett, an ebook highlighting alternatives to praise.
I’m sitting on my bed, knees angled in a V, my back against the Robin’s Egg blue wall. My son is building a castle out of over-sized Legos on the table next to the bed.
I’m hopelessly sad. My mother passed away on Christmas Eve. She had a long illness and every Christmas was the “last” Christmas in my mind, but this Christmas Eve she really died. I posted this on Facebook the night she passed:
“When you see Santa in the sky tonight, know Betty’s got the reigns tonight. She died while I was on the phone with her 9:58 MST/11:58 EST (the nurse held the phone to her ear).
Believe it or not, it gives me great joy and peace that she passed on Christmas Eve, exactly two minutes before midnight East Coast time. She has always been on EST as a New Yorker at heart. RIP Betty. No star ever shone brighter than you. I love you always.”
Photo Source: Mother Nature Network
Although her illness progressed slowly, I thought I’d be more prepared. I thought I detached from her more each year she declined in health, but I became more attached with every day she lived.
I took my son to meet her Thanksgiving 2010. She held him and kissed him in her arms. My mother didn’t die young; in fact, she lived a very full active life until the age of 77. Still, I am not ready to have my mother gone. I want to call her desperately. I lived 2,500 miles from her. Now, the distance is immeasurable. The last year her health declined so much she had to live in a nursing home. I visited her as much as I could.
Last May (2011), she had a close call (read this post for details); I received a call from the nursing home on a Thursday night and I was on a plane Saturday. I had to leave my son very abruptly, who was actively breastfeeding – he was one year old. This was difficult, but at the time I had to make a decision. I brought my breast pump and pumped while I was in Colorado.
My husband and in-laws took care of my son. When I arrived at the nursing home it was decided to bring my mom to the hospital. She had a severe bladder infection and was severely dehydrated. When I went to the hospital, my mom was delirious and hallucinating. She said to me, “There are some folks from Heaven here who want me to go with them.” I said, “Tell them to take a number. I just got to town.”
My mother was treated with antibiotics and given IV fluids. She beat the infection and recovered. I stayed a week out West and visited with my mom.
Now my son and I are reading a book as he pulls the zipper down to his jammies and says, “I don’t like my jammies.” We read the book, Road Work Ahead about seven times. Each time we get to the last page he says, “Again. You read it again Mama.”
Now he is asleep in my arms, his little boy eyes closed peacefully. I think about my mother doing the same exact thing for me as a two year old, snuggled deep in her arms listening to her heartbeat. I’ve realized that being a mom made my mom so happy. She was so good at it and I’m lucky to have been blessed with a lively, loving mother.
She was diagnosed with two benign brain tumors in 2000. Her condition deteriorated slowly, almost unnoticeable, until viewed in chunks defined by years.
Now I am grieving. The shock has worn off and I realize she is gone. The grief work for me truly begins now, a little less than a month later.
She will be buried with my father’s ashes at Arlington Cemetery. I will drive her ashes up 95 North with my husband and son to our nation’s capital. I assume the closure of her funeral will help me detach perhaps, but I have not detached as I can’t really detach from her as we were very attached to each other.
I think I put it rather eloquently in a Facebook post about a week after she passed:
“This by far is the deepest pain I have ever felt. It is layered in my mind, body, spirit, for at one time I shared my mother’s body — and heart.”
It’s going to take time. In the meantime, I cherish the moments like this — my son snuggled in my left arm, the memories of my mom alive in my right hand as I write.
