How Do You Know Your Mom Loves You?

I just filled out one of those things that get passed around on FaceBook. On this one, I had to ask my daughter a variety of questions about me and then write down the answers she gave.

One of the questions Isabella had to answer was "What is something Mom always says to you?" Isabella answered, "That she loves me." Another question was, "How do you know your Mom loves you? Isabella answered, "Because she keeps telling me."

I love that she answered these questions this way and without hesitation. It is so important to me that my kids DO know I love them. And I strongly believe that a parent can never tell their child too many times that they love them. So, Isabella is right. I do tell her all the time. I always make sure it's the last thing my kids hear from me before I leave or before they go somewhere. I say it before they go to bed. I will randomly say it for no particulr reason when we're driving in the car and there's a lull in the conversation. I tell them when they've done something that makes me smile. I tell them as I kiss away their tears. "I love you" is spoken when I find myself remembering I love them, like when they sing a really sweet song or turn into complete goof-balls making me laugh. And I especially love saying "I love you" when I got one of my kids all to myself, cuddled on the couch, no reason at all, and I can just whisper it quietly in their ear like it's our little secret.

But, while I may tell my kids that I love them more than the average parent, I know that most parents tell their kids they love them, too. And I bet if we took a large group of kids and asked them how they know their mom loves them, many of them would say, "because she tells me."

When I taught third grade, I had a girl in my class who it turned out was being horrifically sexually abused by her dad. Fortunately, the dad was easily convicted and sent to jail. While the rest of us were jumping for joy, my sweet student began grieving. She would stay after school and tell me how much she missed her dad. She would tell me she loved him. And despite all the things this man did to his little girl, my student would tell me how much her dad loved her. Because, even children who are abused believe at some level that their parents love them. Unfortunately, their understanding of a parent's love for their child is twisted and distorted.

I have even worked with many families who tell their kids they love them maybe once or twice a day at the routine times. Maybe more given the circumstances. But when I ask their kids WHY do your parents love you, they get stuck, or they'll tell me because they're supposed to, or because they feed them and take care of them.

Knowing this. Seeing this. It motivates me with own my kids.

I want my kids to know that I love them not just because I'm their mom and all moms love their kids. I don't want my kids to know that I love them just because I tell them. I don't want my kids to know I love them because I take care of them and buy them things and keep them safe. All of these do show them to some degree that I love them. But I want them to know I love them because they are lovable human beings. That it is THEM as a unique person that I love. I love their blue eys and blond hair and their little belly buttons. I love Nate's soft high-pitched laugh. I could listen to it all day. I love Isabella's enthusiasm for knowledge and how excited she gets when she learns something new. I love watching them play together and being loving and caring toward each other. I love their hearts and how they want to share and care for others. I love watching Isabella swing and the look of pure happiness as she goes higher and higher. I love how Nate is so much a boy in so many ways but loves more than anyone to give hugs and kisses and to just cuddle. These are the things I also tell them all the time. The specifics. The "why" behind my love. So there's never a doubt that I love my kids, and there's never an assumption that I love them because I have to.

I love Isabella because I love ISABELLA. I love Nate because I LOVE Nate. And I want to make sure that my kids know that my love for them is more than just a mom loving her kids. And my hope is that if Isabella had to give more than just a quick answer to the question "How do you know your mom loves you?" she would be able to say so much more than "because she keeps telling me."

Goof-Ball Under Control

My daughter, Isabella can be a bit of a goof-ball. She loves to get silly. Unfortunately, she's not always the best at knowing when it's appropriate to be silly or when it's time to stop. Recently, this has started to interfere with her piano lessons. Now, I understand that her lesson on Thursdays is about an hour after school gets out, right about the time her pent up energy is about to explode. And I also understand that having a different person than her mom and dad to show off to is quite exciting. But it is still important for her to learn when being silly is appropriate and when it's time to stop regardless of the situation.

The past few weeks, piano lessons from my perspective have been a very high maintenance experience for her teacher. While her teacher is great and actually specializes in Isabella's age group, having a high-energy goof-ball as a student has got to get under the skin of even the most kid-loving adult, especially when they're trying their best to try to teach them something in a very short amount of time.

I have talked to Isabella after class several times about her behavior and why it was inappropriate. I have even spoken up in the middle of her lesson to try to redirect her. In both cases, I usually speak with a very firm voice and a "you're not making a very good choice" lecture. I always tell parents that when a strategy doesn't work, don't keep trying to make it work. Yet, that's what I was doing. My strategy hadn't worked no matter how many times I tried. It was time to get unstuck and try for a different approach.

So this time on the way to her lesson, I had Isabella tell me what she was going to do differently this week in lessons. When she told me she was going to listen and do what she was being asked to do, I had her tell me what her plan was for when she felt like getting too silly. After thinking about it, she told me she was going to take a deep breath and tell her body to calm down. Then I had her imagine herself going through her lesson with her teacher being a good listener, doing what she was being asked to do, and learning new things on the piano. I also had her imagine needing to calm herself down when she felt like getting silly so that she could do all those things effectively.

As we pulled up to the house I asked her, "Are you ready for a great lesson today?" With a big smile Isabella said, "Yup, I am!" And she was. She had a great lesson and kept her silliness under control (at least within a reasonable range). Isabella (not me) needed to prepare herself for a great lesson. I only coached her through that process. And she needed to know what to do when she was getting off track. Just telling her to stop didn't help her. She needed a plan for what to do instead. Again, she came up with the plan, I just helped her get started.

It was a perfect reminder of how being proactive toward undesired behavior is usually more effective, and positive, than being reactive. And it was way more fun to praise and celebrate with her the good job she did on the way home than scold and lecture her. A win for both of us!

2-hour Time Out

One of the best pieces of advice I can offer parents is to always be more stubborn than your kids. Believe it or not, my kids are VERY strong-willed and if they didn't have a mom who was the same...well I can't imagine what nightmares of kids they would be. Instead, I am thrilled to say that I have two very opinionated, often strong-willed children, but that's a quality in them I love instead of feel threatened by.

I have many examples of how this strong-willed side of my children have manifested itself, but today I will share the most recent with my now four-year-old, Nate.

It all started before I even came to pick my son up. My good friend and I exchange childcare with each other so that we can both get an extra half-day of work in each week. Nate spends the day with his best friend on Tuesday afternoons and I get the boys Friday afternoons until we meet up again at the elementary school where we both pick up our daughters from kindergarten.

On this particular Tuesday, Nate had somehow hurt his friend at his house and had refused to say, "sorry". Instead he tried to justify the reasons why he shouldn't have to. My friend tried to explain to Nate that it was always important to say sorry to someone you've hurt however it happened or whatever the reasons. My strong-willed child refused. Time out was given, and at the end of his four minutes, Nate STILL refused to apologize. Nate stayed in time out despite many opportunities to chose to come out if only he would say he was sorry to his friend.

Now my friend came to a dilemma. It came time to put the boys in the car to go meet up at the school. Nate dug in his heels and refused to apologize and chose instead to not talk or play at all through the whole car ride and waiting time at the school.

Then I showed up. Nate saw me coming and I think knew in his heart that he was not going to win this one in the end. But determination set in and he was going to try. He sat himself as far away from me as possible and pouted while my friend filled me in on what was going on.

Ready to take over now, I casually walked over to my son with a, "Hey bud! I understand that you need to say sorry to your friend for hurting him. Are you ready to go do that?" No answer.

"OK Bud. Then you can sit right here in time out until you choose differently." I picked a place closer to me for him to sit to show him that he didn't get to call the shots until he started making better choices. He sat there and sat there. Every couple minutes or so I'd check in with him and see if he was ready to chose to come out of time out. But he wouldn't even look at me much less talk.

My friend tried to help out by staying around as long as they could just in case Nate became ready. But time had run out for them and they had places to be. I too had errands I needed to run. So, I went to Nate and said,

"You know what Nate? You have two people that you need to apologize to. Your friend for hurting them and My Friend for not listening. You will stay in time out until you do that because it's important to say sorry when you've done something wrong to someone. Just so you know, you do not get to do anything until that happens. We are going to two stores now. You will not get to have a free cookie at the grocery store or get to chose any of the things we're getting as long as you're in time out. There will be no special treats at the other store we're going to for kids who are in time out. And Bud, there is no dinner, video games, TV, nothing for kids who are in time out. It's up to you when you decide to say sorry and when you get to do things again. Just let me know when you're ready."

I gathered my silent little boy up and walked him to the van. And then began directing all of my attention to my daughter. A couple times Nate wanted to participate in the conversation to which I'd say, "Oh Nate! Are you ready to apologize to your friend and my friend? You need to do that first before you can talk with us." Immediately, Nate would get quiet and go back to his pouting posture.

Nate made it through the grocery store refusing to talk and acting like he didn't care that he didn't get a cookie. Though a bit surprised at how far he was willing to test me, I wasn't worried. I knew I could always be the more stubborned and would take it all the way to bedtime and the next morning if I had to.

It was the second store that he caved. We were at Office Max. And I knew just the right button to push. I said, "Isabella, I'm really thirsty. I'm going to grab a drink. Would you like an orange soda?" Nate perked up wanting one, too. "Bummer, Bud," I said. I can't give you a drink while you're in time out." We made it all the way out of the store and into the van when Nate suddenly transformed into a very happy boy. "Mom!" he exclaimed. "I'm ready now. I want to say sorry to my friend and your friend." I told him I was very happy to hear that. But first I had to make sure that this was a good time for our friends. I texted my friend to see if it was OK for Nate to call him. It was. So I handed the phone to Nate and reminded him what he had to do. He did it perfectly. He first said he was sorry to my friend for not listening. My friend forgave him. Next, Nate asked if he could talk to HIS friend and then apologized for hurting him and even added a "you're my friend and I love you" to the mix.

All was resolved. And two hours after it all began, my sweet boy who was no longer in time out, got to share the orange soda with his sister.