The perfection of imperfection

“Nobody’s perfect”, right?  Well, I’m not so sure.  I think there’s actually a kind of perfection in imperfection.  I tend toward the idea that there’s some sort of plan, or fate, or something that drives us all to be exactly who and how we are.  Some people call this force God, or the Universe, or even coincidence, but whatever you call it, I find it much more empowering to believe that there’s a purpose to my life and a larger force at work.

When I can rest in the perfection of my imperfection it’s much easier to reflect on the things I’ve done that I wish I’d done differently and I can somehow recognize that without making that “mistake” I might never have learned the important lesson in front of me.

The same goes for parenting.  It’s easy to fall into the trap of trying to be the “perfect parent” (as if such a thing ever existed), but the funny thing is that the more we try to mold ourselves into our ideas of what the perfect parent should be like, the less we can relax and be our authentic selves.  And really, don’t we most want to teach our kids to love themselves, be comfortable in their own skin, and know that their best is good enough?!  If so, then we’ve got to learn to be easier on ourselves, to celebrate our triumphs and admit to our mistakes without beating ourselves up.

Consider the past week or so, is there something you’ve said or done that you regret?  And can you see the opportunity for learning and growth that’s available through that experience?

I can remember when I first learned about the negative effects of result-oriented praise and the benefits of effort-based praise.  I was so hard on myself!  I thought about all the hundreds of times I had said to my preschool students, “Wow what a pretty picture” or “Nice space ship!” when I could have said, “It looks like you worked really hard on that!” or even asked, “What was the most fun part of painting that?”  I can remember crying and desperately wishing I could go back in time so that I could have said something different to the kids in my class.  I was taking responsibility for damaging those kids and their self-esteem, when in reality, they probably understood on some level that I cared more about them and their effort than I did about the finished product.

The point is that I did the best I could with the information I had at the time!  Now that I have even more information about what helps kids be motivated and engaged in learning and exploration, I can foster those qualities even more skillfully, but there’s no need to berate myself for the past.  In fact, if I hadn’t had those experiences with the kids in my class, who knows if I even would have found the crucial research that inspired me to change the way I talk to kids?

I know it’s even more profoundly difficult to separate your actions as a parent from their potential impact on your child, but please remember that the mere fact that you care enough to examine your behavior, to consider the way you talk to your kids, and the recognition that you DO have an impact on your children are all signs that you’re already an exemplary parent.  So, remember to take it easy on yourself this week.  Remind yourself that we’re all doing the best we can with what we have.  And discover the beautiful lessons you can learn from your “imperfect” moments.

Have a wonderful week, Shelly

Rewind! A simple trick that really works.

Sometimes the best and simplest solutions are the hardest to remember. I’m not sure why that is. Back in the days when Shelly and I lived in the same city and taught classes “real-time,” one of the things we brought up frequently was that in real life, you don’t really get “rewinds,” where you can go back and start over. So we’d replay challenging situations and get to try out new behaviors so we could become comfortable with them.

However, you *can* start over in real life. Well, not really, in the sense that the past is still there. But you can “rewind,” if both people agree.

The other day, I talked to my girlfriend in a way neither of us really liked. It took us in an uncomfortable direction. On a lark, I said, “Let’s start over.” All four of our shoulders fell several inches in relief.

And you know what? The new beginning was just as good as if the old beginning had never happened.  Why is that?

I think it’s because, most of the time, when we head down a path that feels like it just isn’t working, everyone involved can feel trapped. So starting over gives the opportunity to pick a different beginning point, which most people want anyway if where they are isn’t working.

This trick can work with grownups, kids, and everyone in between. You can offer it to young people as a way to have a “second chance,” in a warm and playful way. Not as if they were somehow bad or wrong, but as an offering of another option. “Ooh, that didn’t work for me so well–would you like to start over?”

When we feel scared, hurt, angry, or a whole host of other emotions, we can default into  ways of being that don’t help connect or get us where we want to go.  Try playing with this technique of starting over, and see if you can’t create more beautiful pathways–let us know how it goes!

Warmly,

Jill

Another look at demands

We don’t blog much about, and certainly don’t advocate much for, demands. But sometimes a seemingly rash move like a demand can really shake things up–in good ways.

Last week a good friend of mine back east quit his job. His boss, who rarely had anything but criticism and sarcasm for him said, “I didn’t think you’d have the guts to do what’s best for yourself.” Then the two of them sat down and had a heart-to-heart that lasted over two hours!

This got me thinking–it seemed like the boss, too, was caught in some kind of pattern that was harmful even to herself. She experienced a kind of relief, too, when my friend quit–essentially, did the only thing in his power to demand the behavior stop. She also expressed some sadness and regret that things had gone the way they did. Once my friend unilaterally changed the terms of their relationship by walking out, the boss also got freed up to be more herself–got more access to her full humanity.

Which got me thinking about how sometimes we get stuck in patterns we don’t want, or might not even be aware of.  And how we–or our kids–can feel stuck in a pattern, even as we defend our behavior in that pattern. And how making a unilateral decision–in this case, a demand–can turn things around.

Continue reading “Another look at demands”

The art of conscious ignoring

Photo by Juliet Cook

I’ve talked a lot here about giving kids attention but I haven’t yet shared about the art of  conscious ignoring.  Well, I really do think there’s a time and place for everything and ignoring your kids can sometimes be the best choice in a given moment.

For instance, if you’re about to escalate a conflict, yell at them, curse, or otherwise treat them in ways you don’t want to, try ignoring instead.  By ignoring their behavior, you’re sending the message, I don’t like what you’re doing and you won’t get my attention by behaving in that way.

Often whether they know it or not, what kids are most wanting when they act in the most extreme ways, is your attention.  So, by removing your attention in the moments when you know you can’t respond responsibly, or in the times when you feel that giving them negative attention will just fuel the fire, you can actually create more calm and promote better behavior from your kids.

Obviously this is not a strategy to use very often, and if your tendency is to withhold your attention, watch out.  What I’m talking about here is making a conscious choice to ignore, as the best choice among others in your repertoire; not getting in the habit of automatically taking away your attention to coerce kids to behave in ways we want them to.   My point is that we all have times when if we had just been able to turn away rather than engage in an old unhealthy pattern, things would have turned out better. Continue reading “The art of conscious ignoring”

Conscious Despair

A lot of these tips sound great in theory, right? And anything is possible when we’ve got our wits about us. But what about those times when we’re really just about to fall into despair? (Or have already fallen?)

I confess: I’ve called Shelly and said, “Help! I feel like a hypocrite–here I am writing and teaching about parenting stuff and I’m about to lose it myself!”

Granted, I may feel more challenged with some of my child’s ways than other parents do with their children. But I think many of us at least once in a while find ourselves at–or over–the brink of despair when we most need energy to cope.

I’m learning that “losing it” can be an important part of the process. Certainly, if it’s happening, it’s part of the process no matter what. I’ve talked recently about How to be in charge and still stay connected, as well as Imagining ahead of time how things will go.

Now I want to say a few words about what to do with some of our own more unsettling emotions, like despair.

The other night I was doing my usual juggling act of trying to clean the kitchen, feed my son, and not forget to feed myself (he eats so few things our dinners are almost always separate).  It had been a hard day, and I was trudging along, doing what needed to be done.

As occasionally happens, he complained loudly about the food. That did it. I just didn’t have anything else in me to respond. So, I did what I’ve watched others do, but never had the nerve to do myself: I went limp. I said, “I can’t deal with this.” And I went into my room, closed the door and lay down.

Wow–what a moment. For once, I didn’t “make it okay.” It made me realize how much energy I spend all the time trying to “make it okay,” and here I was feeling not at all okay. And my son knew it.

Continue reading “Conscious Despair”