Category Archives: parenting

February 15, 2020 · 11:54 AM

6 Ways To Help When Your Child Is Disappointed

dis·ap·point·ment/ˌnoun

sadness or displeasure caused by the nonfulfillment of one’s hopes or expectations.

We’ve had a week up in here. On Tuesday, the 15 year old and I were hit by what turned out to be a very drunk driver, on the way to piano. I’m still freaked out and not sleeping, I’m afraid of every single person around me when I drive, and my car is not okay.

Later in the week, another of my kids was handed one of the biggest disappointments of their life thus far. Not the kind of disappointment that you feel when the gelato place is out of your favorite flavor, but the kind that just reaches in and crushes your soul. The kind from which you feel like you won’t recover.

As a parent, I don’t think there is anything harder than seeing your child in pain, of any variety, and not being able to stop it. I really don’t. When our kids hurt, we hurt. And we want to be able to stop it. We want to be able to stop it so badly. But we just can’t.

The best thing we can do (the only thing we can do really) is to be there. To sit with them and to hold their hand until the storm passes. These are six things I’m trying to keep in mind while I help them navigate through this season.

1. Don’t minimize it. Adults do this weird thing sometimes where they act as though kids’ feelings are not as important as their own. Like an adult can feel DISAPPOINTMENT, but a child only feels Disappointment Lite. Their feelings are real. Their feelings are valid. If anything, I think a child’s feelings are even more acute. They are so open and trusting (as opposed to adults, who tend to be at least a little bit jaded), so when that trust is broken, they are cut, and they are cut deeply. They are allowed to feel what they feel.

2. Don’t make it about you. As someone who is both an empath, and who just feels big feelings, I struggle with this. I am predisposed to take things harder than a “normal” person, by virtue of personality, mental illness, and just plain luck of the draw. But their feelings are not MY feelings, and I think it’s important that I remember that. If I make it about me, it simultaneously takes away from their feelings, heaps more on their plate, and minimizes their own pain. (See point 1) I love the “Ring Theory” by psychologist Susan Silk.

The person in the center (in this case, the one feeling the disappointment), can vent to whoever the heck they want to vent to. Those in the subsequent rings can only vent OUT, not in. Meaning it’s never appropriate to dump your own feelings on the person in the center.

3. Commiserate. YES, this sucks. YES, it hurts. YES, I’d be upset too. YES, I’ve been there (but only if you really have.)

4. Let them call the shots. I think that sometimes the first instinct tends to be to try to cheer them up. And while there’s a time and a place for cheering up, to be sure, there’s also a time and place for just feeling what they’re feeling. Do they want to talk about it? Listen. Even if it’s the hundredth time that day. Do they want to distract themselves? Join them. Follow their lead in how they want to handle their feelings.

5. Hold space for them. It took me a long time to come around to the phrase “hold space.” I don’t know why exactly, except that it tends to come with the hyper spiritual woo-woo kind of stuff that doesn’t resonate with me. But I’ve since learned what a hugely powerful thing it is, I think in part due to the people who’ve cared enough to do it for me. Holding space basically means you create an atmosphere in which you can just be there, loving them; to let them have their experience, to validate their emotions, and to make room for whatever it is they’re feeling…. all without judging, critiquing, or trying to “fix” in any way. This is a great little article in layman’s terms.

6. Remind them it will get easier. When I was 5 or 6, I had a cat named Shala. Shala died right in front of us, after choking on a hair ball. I still remember my mom telling me, “I know it hurts, but it’s going to get easier. Every day it’s going to hurt a little bit less.” She was right. Granted, there is a huge range of possibly upsetting events in between a cat dying and being on the receiving end of another kind of calamity, but the principle still stands. Time passes. We learn to move forward. Things hurt a little bit less. It WILL get easier. There are two caveats to this though. The first is that it needs to come when it is time, (ie: not when you’re still firmly in the holding space stage) and not a minute sooner. The second is that some people don’t want to hear this at all, ever, and it doesn’t make them feel better. Know your kid.

Disappointment, hurt, and upset feelings are part of life. There’s no getting around that. But with love, time, and a whole heck of a lot of patience, we can absolutely help our kids work through even the toughest of life’s blows.

To All The Moms Who’ve Felt “Mom Shamed”

I’ve been writing this blog for over a decade now. Fifteen years if memory serves. In the past fifteen years, I have most definitely felt the judgment of people who vocally disagree with my choices. People are uncomfortable with attachment parenting, with extended (regular-length) breastfeeding, with breastfeeding in public, with homeschooling, with the way my kids have dressed or eaten or looked or breathed. People are uncomfortable with ME too, with my personality, or my beliefs, or my writing style … or, again, with the way I look (people can be mean on the internet.)

And yes, absolutely, there is a difference between politely disagreeing and being a d*ck about it. There is a difference between constructive criticism, and being mean just for the sake of being mean. The thing is, when you’re already worn down, when you already feel like the world is against you, it’s truly hard to differentiate. It all just feels like criticism, and not the constructive kind.

So I absolutely understand the feeling of being “shamed.” The good news is that as time went on, as I became more confident in my choices, it eventually didn’t sting quite as much. Don’t get me wrong… it still gets to me sometimes when people are cruel about it, but it doesn’t weigh me down the way it used to. Still, I understand the frustration and the isolation that comes from everybody judging your choices.

Which is why I’d have a hard time being a celebrity.

I did a quick Google search about mom shaming before I started writing this, and up popped dozens of articles about celebrities who’ve been harshly criticized and lambasted by the public. Everything from what foods they let their kids eat, to how long they let their hair grow, to how they dressed, to breastfeeding too long, to breastfeeding not long enough, to bottle-feeding, to kissing their kids on the lips, for daring to have a social life, to drinking a glass of wine, to working, to not working. The list is ridiculously long and endless. Some are scolded for publicly sharing their kids’ faces, while others are questioned about why they don’t share their kids’ faces. They are truly damned if they do, damned if they don’t. Which, if they’re like me, and sensitive to that kind of thing, must be exhausting.

I hear you. I see you.

But.

… And I’m truly and honestly trying to say this as gently and honestly and kindly as I can …

There are some things that just can’t be lumped into the “mom shaming” category. Some things, that like it or not, we need to swallow our pride about and just… listen. Safety is one of them. People get defensive and angry and prickly when their car seat errors are pointed out to them, but it’s science. Not shaming. There is a correct way to secure your child’s car seat into the car, and your child into the seat. (And yes, rear-facing is always the safest position for your infant, regardless of what height and weight they’ve reached) Similarly, people get defensive and angry and prickly when their baby wearing errors are pointed out to them, but it’s science. Not shaming. When Tegan was an infant, I used a sling for the first time, and had no idea what I was doing. I watched videos, read instructions, and asked other moms. If someone had approached me and told me the way I was wearing her was unsafe, would I have been embarrassed? Yup. Would I have been grateful and made the change? Yup.

But the thing that people get the most defensive and angry and prickly about? Spanking. And spanking, too, is a matter of safety, and a matter of science. Spanking harms children. My speaking out about spanking is not about shaming. It’s not about wanting to make people feel bad. It’s about genuine concern for children, for their safety, for their well-being, and for their right to be raised without violence. It’s about alternatives that people may not know exist. It’s about a kinder way to interact with our children. It’s about changing the script, flipping the narrative, and turning our backs on the “way things have always been done.” It’s about knowing better and doing better.

Have I gotten a lot of hate for speaking out about spanking? Yes. Is it worth it if one or two people have stopped spanking because of something they’ve learned from me? YES. A thousand times, yes.

So much of what we call mom shaming is just unfortunate noise. We really do have a wide range of – equally valid! – choices when it comes to parenting, and they’re all to be respected. Those who are quick to point out the perceived flaws in others’ choices are likely just unhappy with their own. And if I’ve contributed to that noise, whether in person or on this blog, know that I am sorry, and that I will try to do better.

But speaking out for children, for their rights, and for their safety? It’s just not the same thing as shaming, and is not something I’ll apologize for.

1 Comment

Filed under attachment parenting, mindful parenting, parenting, spanking, Uncategorized

November 6, 2019 · 4:07 PM

No Jimmy Kimmel, It’s Not Funny To Pretend To Eat Your Child’s Halloween Candy

I don’t really have an opinion on Jimmy Kimmel. People seem to like him. Apparently he’s funny. He makes people laugh. He’s a host, a comedian, a writer, and a producer. He has his own late night talk show that’s been on the air for over fifteen years. So, I mean, well done Jimmy Kimmel.

He also does something this time every year (Google tells me that this is year nine) that makes my heart hurt. He has parents, as a “prank”, tell their kids that they ate all their Halloween candy. The parents record the exchange, send in the video, and the internet has a collective laugh over these betrayed and crying children.

Hysterical.

Who decided it was funny to laugh at kids’ pain? I’ll get back to that.

Jokes should never hurt. Let’s just start there. Jokes should make both parties laugh. If one party is laughing and the other one is crying, that’s not a joke. That’s bullying. Plain and simple. If a parents pulls a “prank” on their child with the intent of making them sad, it’s bullying. If a parent records a child – understandably – crying, and then shares it with the internet, it’s bullying. If we, as a collective society, laugh at children who are in distress, it’s bullying. We seem to recognize bullying when it’s done in the schoolyard, but turn a blind eye when it’s done by parents.

The very definition of bullying is “seeking to harm, intimidate, or coerce.” Is that not exactly what parents are doing when they use their power over their children to make them feel bad? And then splash it about the internet as though it’s entertainment?

Kids are human beings, with human feelings. Somewhere along the way, we’ve lost sight of that. Doing something to purposely hurt those feelings is mean. Children are not our puppets. They’re not here for our entertainment. They are people, who, like all people, are deserving of kindness and respect.

Pretending to eat their candy is akin to me parking my husbands car around the corner, telling him it was stolen from the driveway, and then laughing (And filming! Can’t forget the filming!) at his reaction.

But it’s just candy, you may argue. The car comparison is unfair. But what’s “just” candy to an adult may very well be extremely important to the child. The fact that it’s “just” candy doesn’t make their sadness or their tears any less real. It doesn’t make what you’ve done any less cruel. Delighting in someone else’s misery is NEVER funny, no matter how insignificant you think it to be. Candy, cars, it doesn’t matter. Purposely hurting someone so we can laugh at them is one of the lowest things we can do. Jokes shouldn’t hurt.

We have to start doing better. We seem to realize that there is a bullying problem in schools today (which is a start!), but no one wants to have the uncomfortable conversation. No one wants to admit that maybe, just maybe, kids bully because they were first bullied at home. Because they learned that it was all a game to cause someone else pain. Because they learned that it was funny to make someone else cry. Because they learned that “jokes” could be at someone else’s expense.

Our society, and our kids, deserve better. And that is never, ever going to come to fruition if we don’t take a hard honest look at how we’re treating our own children, the youngest and most vulnerable members of our own families.

Be nice to children. Please.

9 Comments

Filed under gentle parenting, hot topics, mindful parenting, parenting, Uncategorized

July 26, 2019 · 3:12 PM

No More Wee-Wees and Hoo-Hoos

When I was pregnant with my second (18 at the time of this writing), I had a routine 5 month ultrasound, and we decided that we wanted to find out the gender. Our oldest, 3 at the time, was bouncing around the room, chanting to nobody in particular, “Do you see a penis or a vagina? Penis or vagina?” The tech looked us over with derision, sort of snorted and said, “Wow, you must be really big on penises and vaginas in your house.” I smiled politely (I’m pretty sure) but inside I was irritated. We were about to find out the gender of our baby. I’m pretty sure everyone in the room was wondering about penises and vaginas. And what was wrong with a 3 year old voicing his curiosity anyway?

I wonder if she, like so many adults, was uncomfortable with a small child using, well…. using the correct terms for body parts.

I was on a Facebook group recently, where a grown woman referred to her vulva as a “front butt.” My first thought was, “WHO SAYS THAT?” The answer, not-surprisingly, is: a lot of people. Along with wee wee and pee pee and hoo hoo and vajayjay. Of course there’s the ubiquitous “down there”, or simply one’s “area” or “parts.” And in recent news, my 11 year old just informed me that some people say, “the fold.” (Who knew?)

You wouldn’t think it would be controversial. After all, no one uses a euphemism for “elbow.” But people get weird when it comes to private parts, and I’m here to tell you, for the sake of your kids:

Get over it and use the right words. For so many reasons.

For one thing, using the correct words teaches them that there is nothing to be ashamed about, that they can openly come to us with questions or problems, and that there isn’t anything inherently wrong or dirty or bad about any of their body parts. A four year old should be able to confidently, and without shame, tell his parents that his penis hurts.

It’s also important when talking with doctors and other medical professionals, so that they can voice where they have a problem, pain or concern. And if they’re ever touched inappropriately, they’ll have the correct terms to be able to describe what happened. Some studies even say that it makes them less likely to be touched inappropriately in the first place, since abusers are more likely to shy away from kids who are confident and knowledgeable about their bodies.

It makes it easier and more comfortable – for both parties – when we talk to our kids about body changes during puberty.

It makes it easier and more comfortable – for both parties – when we talk about sex.

It makes it easier and more comfortable – for both parties – when we talk about appropriate and inappropriate touch.

It makes it easier and more comfortable – for both parties – when we talk about body image and self-love.

While context is an important thing (ie: It’s okay to talk about your vagina; it’s not okay to CALL someone a vagina), the words themselves are not bad, dirty or wrong. They’re body parts. And the sooner we can get comfortable with them, the sooner our kids will be comfortable with them.

So teach your kids: Penis. Testicles. Vulva. Vagina. Labia. Clitoris. (Teach them what’s what, too!)

Please teach them the real words. If for no other reason, so they don’t turn into adults so afraid of proper terminology that they shame a 3 old for his excitement over finding out if he was going to have a brother or a sister.

2 Comments

Filed under gentle parenting, parenting

July 17, 2019 · 12:57 PM

“Your Phone is Your Own Property”, and other screen time rules I give my kids

This article, titled “‘Your phone is not your property’ and other screen time rules I give my kids” is currently being shared far and wide. Unsurprisingly to anyone who reads my work, my perspective is a little bit different. While this mom is clearly a hard and fast rule kind of person, I tend not to see things in such black and white terms. Cell phone use, like just about everything else, is filled with shades of grey, and we do our kids no favors if we set such a hard line that they don’t even get the chance to learn how to navigate it.

Here are my responses to her rules, along with why they’re different.

Dinners are generally cell-phone free. I say “generally” because there’s no actual rule about it, although the 11 year old IS a fan of announcing “Family time!” if someone answers a text. There are six of us, so while we don’t typically have many phones at the table, there’s usually one or two. And nine times out of ten, I’m happy someone has one. It makes it so much easier to quickly Google that obscure thing we happened to be wondering about in one of our infamously random dinner time conversations. For the most part, we spend dinner eating and chatting together anyway. No rules necessary.

Be creative and flexible when trying to get work done. Phones, like so many other things, can provide distractions. If it’s a problem for you, schedule in phone breaks! For example, set a timer and work for 20 minutes, then take a break for 5. I am working through my final few classes for my Psychology Bachelors, and I’m telling you…. having the option to “phone a friend” or play a quick game sometimes has been invaluable to me when writing papers or working on otherwise tedious assignments. I don’t keep my phone nearby ALL the time (I know my own limits), but it is extremely helpful when I’m in need of a break.

Plan for play time, and lots of it! Regular downtime is so important, and shouldn’t have to wait for the weekends, especially when you’re a kid! Kids should be playing... whether that means outside in the creek, up in a tree house, or yes, on a console or computer playing a video game. Strict rules about when or where or for how long kids can play video games only makes them crave it more. When the limit is lifted, and an equilibrium is found, it becomes but one of a million options.

Figure out how your phone affects you at night. Everyone is different, so blanket rules about cell phone usage never helps anyone. Some people do better if they shut their phone off a couple hours before sleep. Others sleep better if they play a few rounds of Sodoku right before bed. (That exact thing was actually suggested by a doctor, to a friend of mine with anxiety and insomnia. It helped.) Sometimes some of the best conversations I have with friends are late at night, when life is quiet and guards are down. Sometimes I need to knock off early, and I stick my phone on the charger by 9:00. If something isn’t working for you, we’ll work on a solution together.

Figure out how your phone affects you in the morning. Just as with nighttime usage, morning cellphone usage varies from person to person. Some people might find it too much of a distraction to get ready on time, while others may be able to work it into their morning seamlessly. Whichever camp you fall into, life sometimes interferes, and mistakes sometimes happen. We won’t be mad if you’re late because of your phone, or any other reason. We will talk with you about strategies for next time.

Your phone is YOUR property. The popular party line says that kids don’t own their phones. Their parents bought them and pay the bill, and therefore, they belong to the parents, not the kids. In the kindest way I can think to put this: That is some misguided and unfair BS. My kids’ phones (just like their clothes, their computers, and their other belongings) belong to them.

Is there conversation about internet usage and social media safety? Yes.

Is there ongoing communication about what sort of apps they’re using, games they’re playing, and friends they’re talking to? Yes.

Do I have their passwords and go through their phone and read their texts? NO! To do so would be to violate their privacy. And yes, children are deserving of privacy, too.

The one caveat? Safety, for yourself or others. If there is an actual threat of harm in some way, I would intervene in whatever means necessary, as would any caring parent. This is NOT the same thing as casually strolling through your daily history just because I’m the parent and I say so.

Our kids are living in a different world than the one we grew up in. And I’m thankful for that! What a cool thing to be able to walk around with fully connected, working computers in your pocket. Is it a responsibility? Of course. But the best thing I can do as a parent is work with my kids as they navigate that responsibility, not against them.

2 Comments

Filed under parenting, teens, Uncategorized

May 29, 2019 · 9:56 AM

Embracing The “And”

The other day, I posted an article about video games, and the amount of learning that comes from them. (The article is here.) The comments were fairly predictable, ranging from “Right on!” to “No way. That’s ridiculous.” to “Glad it works for your kids; it’d never work for mine.” The ones that most interested me though were the ones that said something along the lines of, “Kids need to play outside/get fresh air/read books/use their imaginations/etc”

I used to think that way. In fact, I used to have black and white thinking about a lot of things. And then I discovered how very, very much I was missing out on because of it. The world is not black and white. The world is not either/or. It’s a million shades of grey and a million shades of technicolor.

You don’t have to choose between playing video games and playing outside. They are not mutually exclusive.

At the time of this writing, my kids range in age from 11 to 22. They all love their video games, and are welcome to play them as often as they’d like. They also love music, and being outdoors, and swimming, and hanging out with friends, and reading, and researching. None is more valuable than the other. They are options, all there for the taking. Just a couple of days ago, the two middle boys had friends over, and the group played board games and card games and hung out and chatted for nearly 11 hours straight.

You can love video games AND love spending time with your friends.

You can eat the salad AND eat the chocolate chip cookies.

You can hike the mountain AND snuggle down on the couch.

You can watch the movie AND read the book.

You can be honest AND kind.

You can be angry AND forgiving.

I think we get stuck in these black and white ruts and don’t realize that more often than not, there are options. There are “ands”. And yes, absolutely, sometimes there’s not a choice. Sometimes life throws us curve balls. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t love. That much is true. But what a gift we give ourselves and our kids when we find the “ands!” One of the reasons I chose to homeschool (and particularly unschool) was precisely because I wanted my kids to have as many choices as I could give them. I wanted to make their worlds larger. It makes me sad to see homeschooled children whose lives have been made smaller, not the other way around.

I want my kids to do what makes them happy in the moment. I want them to know that they can play the video game and read the book and hang out with their friends and play the instrument and go outside and sit and think and ponder and putter just….. BE.

And likewise, I can go to school, and take care of the house, and write, and plan a conference, AND be an engaged, present mother. And when I feel one slipping? It’s time to readjust, that’s all. I’ll admit it, it’s easy for me to jump straight into the black and white thinking of, “That’s it, I’ve failed at everything, I might as well stop trying.” That’s often my first thought if I’m being honest. But someone once told me that our first thought – especially if it’s a negative one – is usually wrong. And in this case it’s true. I have choices. I have “ands.” I can adjust. I can decide. And if that means making big and/or scary changes? That’s okay too.

There are choices. There are ands.

I’m not afraid of my kids playing video games any more than I’m afraid of them reading a book. If they play games all day one day? Cool. If they read all day one day? Cool. I don’t worry, because my kids don’t have the baggage that I’ve had to overcome. They don’t have the all-or-nothing thinking that makes us desperately, obsessively (and unhealthily) cling to one choice over another.

They know there are ands. And they use them.

1 Comment

Filed under parenting, Uncategorized, unschooling

May 14, 2019 · 8:27 AM

To The Frustrated Mom At The Movie Theater

We were standing in line at the movie theater. We were about to see Breakthrough, which really requires its own post because, wow. There were raised voices a few people behind us, and while I couldn’t tell what I was going on, I did very clearly hear a mom snap out the words, “If you don’t stop, I’m going to spank your heinie right here in front of everyone. I don’t care.”

Tegan looked at me with wide eyes, and we both glanced back to see the pair: a boy of about 6 looking nonplussed, and a mom looking…. well, looking very, very tired.

There was a time my little blogging fingers would have rushed home to tear out a post against spanking, and about respect, and about treating your kids how you want to be treated.

And to be sure, my stance hasn’t changed. Violence – and yes, spanking is violent – against children is wrong. Kids should be treated with respect. Kids should be treated the way we want to be treated ourselves.

But I keep thinking of that mom, and feeling a whole lot of unexpected compassion. Because the thing is, I’m tired too. And that deep-in-your-bones mom fatigue? Sometimes it comes out sideways.

I don’t know that mom. I don’t know what kind of day she’d been having. I don’t know what kind of life she’d been having. I don’t know if she has support. I don’t know if she’s grieving, or if she hasn’t slept for a month, or if she’s struggling to put food on the table. I don’t know if she’s single, I don’t know if she has a partner who hurts her. I don’t know what it was that drove her to snap with a threat to her son in the line at the movie theater. Maybe she knows no other way. Maybe she’s parenting the way she was parented, and the way her parents were parented. Maybe she lacks the tools she needs to know that there are alternatives.

So tired mom at the movie theater? I see you. I see your tired eyes, and I see your frustration. I see your love for your son. I see you doing the best you can with what you have at your disposal, and I see you struggling.

I will always advocate for the children. That will never stop. But to the mom at her wits’ end? I’m on your side too. I see you. I hope you know you are strong. I hope you know you can do this (and that you don’t have to resort to spanking). I hope you know that you have other moms in your corner, rooting for you to succeed, and I hope you know that we understand. That we’ve all been there. That we know what it’s like to be frustrated, to be exhausted, to be at the end of our proverbial parenting rope.

Parenting is hard sometimes. Sweet baby Jesus parenting is hard. But if you can hold on, then it’s beautiful.

I believe I can make it through the hard moments. And mom at the movie theater? I believe you can, too.

2 Comments

Filed under parenting, Uncategorized

March 7, 2019 · 10:31 AM

I’m Not a Mean Mom… But I’m Not a Nice Mom, Either

Yesterday, a friend sent me a link to another Mean Mom blog post. The internet is full of these, and their praise is rampant. Moms virtually compete to see who can be the meanest, and backs are pat when the bar is raised.

It makes me tired.

I’ve written several times about why I’ve opted out of being a “mean mom.” ( You can read a few here, here, and here)

But the thing is, I don’t want to be a “nice” mom, either.

Nice is common. Nice is superficial. Nice is what you are to the cashier at Target, and the waiter at Cheesecake Factory. Nice is what you do when you follow polite societal norms. With a little bit of practice, anyone can be nice.

When it comes to my kids (as to everyone I love), I want to be kind. Kind comes from somewhere deeper than nice. Kind is precipitated by caring, by genuine feelings, and genuine desires. Kind makes me want to treat my children the way I’d like to be treated, and kind makes me want to put my children first.

Being kind is not the same thing as being a doormat. In fact, it’s the opposite. Kindness comes from a place of true connection. A place where there’s room for give and take, for honest communication, and deep relationship.

Kindness puts someone else’s needs above your own, and kindness begets more kindness. The beauty of kindness is that it spreads. The more kindness that you pour onto your kids, the more kindness they’ll pour onto others.

The more you show them you care, the more they’ll care about others.

The more you give, the more they’ll learn to give to others.

The more you model forgiveness, and grace, and understanding, the more they’ll respond in kind.

The world, especially these days, desperately needs more kindness. The world does not need more “mean.”

And as with anything else we’re trying to change in society…. the best place to start is with our kids.

Dear Sports Parents, Your Only Job is to Cheer

This week was the 11 year old’s last volleyball game of the season. She’d never played before, so it was really cool to watch her growth and improvement over the past eight weeks (including scoring several points in her final game!)

I really enjoy watching the kids play sports. Between the four of them, they’ve at various times done football, baseball, gymnastics, volleyball, karate… the list goes on. It’s fun to watch them enjoy themselves out there (I remember when our now 14 year old was about 6, he was easy to spot as the little-league player who couldn’t wipe the smile off his face the entire game), it’s fun to watch their pride in their burgeoning skills, and it’s fun to watch them improve.

What’s not fun? That one parent.

Or three parents or five parents. You know the ones I’m talking about. The ones that yell at their kids from the sidelines. The ones that critique. The ones that never say, “Good try”, but instead holler, “You should’ve had that!”

They break their kids, and they break my heart.

One of the saddest things I ever witnessed was after a little league game – and keep in mind, these are YOUNG kids – when a father reached his hand out to his son. The son thought he was about to give him a high five, so with a smile on his face he went in with the swing…. and his dad pointed in his face and let out of torrent of what he’d done wrong. I’ll never forget the look on that kids’ face.

There’s one girl on Tegan’s volleyball game who I’ve always sort of watched closely. She’s incredibly talented and good at the sport, but she looks pretty perpetually unhappy. I finally decided that maybe she was just one of those people who had an unhappy resting face, until my husband pointed something out to me during the last game.

“Look at how she looks at her father after every single play.”

I watched, and indeed, every single time she hit the ball or missed the ball or was anywhere near the ball, she looked over at her father. He shouted critiques, gave instruction, or, in the case of her missing a play, just shook his head in disappointment.

These are 10 to 12 year olds. In a recreational, instructional league. They’re there to learn to play the game, learn to work together, and have fun. That’s about it. They’re not training for the Olympics. And, honestly, even if they were training for the Olympics, that’s why they have coaches!

The negative, sideline coaching hurts my heart. The look on that girl’s face every time she sought her father’s approval hurts my heart. The fact that these parents are missing this fleeting – it is so, so fleeting! – time in their child’s life hurts my heart. What is supposed to be a fun learning experience turns into something else entirely. It turns into a lesson of “Mom/Dad doesn’t support me.” “I’m not good enough.” “I’ll never earn their approval.” Not to mention the fact that no kid is going to enjoy a sport – or anything – if they’re being criticized while they do it.

Those scars are lifelong, and they run deep.

If your kid plays a sport, he has a coach. With any luck that coach is supportive and fair and equally instructive and encouraging. But they’re the coach. They’re the ones who give instruction. They’re the ones to listen to on the sidelines. They’re the ones to give gentle corrections when they’re needed.

Parents? Your job is to cheer. That’s it. To clap for your kid, and the other kids. To model what good sportsmanship looks like. To encourage. To support. To sink into the joy of watching your kid do something they (hopefully) enjoy. To appreciate this short time in their life when the most exciting day of their week is showing off their new skills on the volleyball court. To celebrate with them when they get the perfect serve. To lift them up when they miss a bump. To generally serve as a cheerleader … a bright, smiling presence, so when your kid does look at you over in the stands, they feel nothing but supported, and see nothing but a thumbs up.

Kids look up to us as their parents. They look to us for approval, they look to us for support, they look to us as an example. While I’d like to believe that the critical parent means well, and just wants their child to get better at the game, they are doing so at the expense of their relationship, and at the expense of their child’s self esteem.

Words hurt. Think about what your words are really doing.

And please. PLEASE. If you raise your hand to your child after a game? Let it be that high five for a job well done.

Your Teens Are Normal

“Have you been reading about what’s going on between India and Pakistan right now?” That came from my 14 year old last night, sparking a little light dinner conversation.

I have loved my kids fiercely at every age, but I really think the teen years are my favorite. The above is one of the reasons why. They’re just so cool, able to discuss grown up things, and allowing us to interact with them on a whole new level.

But oh how people stress out about having teenagers! They worry about it, they even dread it. And then when their teens go through perfectly normal stages of development, parents through up their hands in frustration, and say, “See?! Teens are impossible!”

But they’re not. They’re humans, going through an incredible stage of growth, and certain… peculiarities… are part and parcel of the process.

Here are just a few (totally normal!) things you might experience as your kids adjust to teendom.

Hibernation. This is the first thing that really threw me for loop with #1 (who’s now 22). He slept ALL THE TIME, and I felt like I never saw him any more. At one point, I remember wondering if I should take him to the doctor. But when #2 came around (now 18), and started doing the same thing, I went, “Oooooh, I remember this!” and I relaxed into the inevitable. Hibernating and cocooning are real. They may sleep a lot. They may spend all their waking hours in their room. They may pull away a little. You might forget what they look like. You may just get a grunt here and there when they wander to the kitchen to make themselves a sandwich (And while I’m on the subject of food, a ridiculously huge appetite? Also totally normal for growing teens.) This is normal and healthy. Don’t take it personally! Stay connected as much as you can (I remember a very long phase of bringing #2 cookies and other treats while he played at his computer), but otherwise give them space. They WILL emerge, and they will emerge all the better for you having respected their needs at this critical time.

Unpredictable moods. So here’s the thing. Being a teen is hard. You’re being flooded with hormones, your body is changing, everything feels like an emergency, and the world expects you to be an adult one minute, but treats you like a child the next. It’s enough to make even the most tender hearted a little salty from time to time. It’s not about you. Let me say it again. It’s not about you. And if things escalate to the point of your teen being cruel or disrespectful, it is of course appropriate to set a boundary, (ie: “I’m not going to let you talk to me that way”) just as you would with a spouse or a friend. But this is a time for a whole lot of grace and understanding, not defensiveness. Being a teen is hard.

Unpredictable behavior. Teens have one foot in adulthood, and one foot still firmly entrenched in childhood. And the way society treats them tends to be pretty abhorrent. Grow up! Get a job! Do something useful with your life! AND You’re just a kid! Sit down! No one cares what you think! So which is it? Burgeoning adult, or innocent child? The fact is, teens are BOTH, and parents who are paying attention know that either one may show its face at any time. Your dinner time teen might be making mature conversation about current affairs…. or he may be making a pyramid out of his peas. It’s normal, it’s okay, and while it may give you whiplash from time to time, it’s not something to freak out about. Meet them where they’re at, and don’t try to force them to be something they’re not quite ready for.

Can parenting teens be frustrating sometimes, maddening even? Sure. Just like parenting 3 year olds and 7 year olds, and just about any other big transition age. But it’s also rewarding, and heartwarming, and a hell of a lot of fun. Getting to hang out with my teens and watch as they mature into young adults has honestly been one of the best parts of being a parent. It requires patience, sometimes a lot of it (“Seriously, how much longer is he going to be holed up in his room”), but it is so very worth it. A little grace and a lot of understanding goes a long way. And the benefit? A great relationship with some of the coolest and most interesting people you’ll ever have the pleasure of knowing.

Teens are awesome, and don’t believe anyone who tells you otherwise.

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