6 Things I Tell My Kids to Encourage Resilience

I’m a human parenting three distinctly unique humans, we are all making mistakes and encountering problems (some self-created) on the daily. But how we approach those challenges — and ourselves in relation to them — is key. Do we allow ourselves to get stuck? Or do we find a way forward?

Sometimes we humans get so focused on what isn’t working that we become incapable of seeing the solution. We may even completely surrender our own power for the role of situational victim. However, more often than not, if we just take a deep breath, zoom out, and look at the issue with an eye, not toward the problem, but toward the solution, we can find a positive outcome. And, in doing so, we regain our power.

These are some key phrases I say almost daily to encourage resilience in my children.

1.” If what you’re doing isn’t working, try doing it a different way.” My son was struggling to maneuver a scooter up a steep hill. Over and over again, his little 5-year-old legs would push-glide 3/4 of the way up the incline and, just at the steepest point, he’d come streaking down the slope. “It’s unpossible!” He finally declared in a fit of kindergartener angst. I knelt down and told him that I knew it was frustrating and saw him trying, then said, “If what you’re doing isn’t working, try doing it differently.” He took a deep breath, looked at the path, then began walking his scooter up the hill. He reached the top and grinned. All it took was a shift in approach, and isn’t that so very much the case in life? Often we get stuck in patterns of behavior that do nothing but derail and frustrate us. We keep repeating the same steps, same words, same actions (or reactions), and keep getting the same undesirable results. Just as often, all it takes to propel us towards our desired outcome is a change in our method. It could be as simple as holding the paper differently, mounting our bike on the curb, rewording our sentence, or changing one element of our morning routine, but that minute shift can make all of the difference.

2. “Look around you for your answer.” My sparkly son is quick to learn math, but spelling is his struggle point. When he’s writing, he’ll often ask me how to spell a word. So, I’ve begun to tell him to look around the room to see if there is a place where the word he’s looking for might be written. Is the desired word always neatly scrolled across a world map or included in a book? Not always, but it’s important for him to think of ways to solve the problem without relying on me or technology. And sometimes, the mere act of literally shifting focus brings about the recollection of how to spell the word or inspires substitution with a suitable synonym. He regains his power by solving his own problem. Sometimes all we need to do is look around to see more clearly.

3. “If you say you can’t, you can’t.” The mind is a powerful thing, as are words. When my daughter was learning to ride a bike, every time she said, “Mommy, I can’t!” She’d fall. Every. Single. Time. And when she didn’t say it, she didn’t fall. So, we banned the use of, “I can’t.” After all, telling ourselves that we can’t do something is a self-fulfilling prophecy. If doubt or fear is too much to stomach a heartfelt, “I can,” go with a solid, “I can try.” Flip the script and the trajectory all in one step!

4. “Don’t tell me the problem; ask for the solution.” “Mommy, I’m hungry.” How many times do we here that every day? One day, I realized that that simple and frequent statement was removing problem resolution practice for my children and tasking me with mind reading. Did they want an apple, an orange, a granola bar? Was this a ploy for midday treats? Instead of falling into the guessing game pattern, I began handing the responsibility back to them. “Don’t tell me the problem; ask for the solution.” I remind them. Now, of course this isn’t applicable to all problem scenarios, but simple situations like, “I’m bored”, “I’m hungry”, “I’m tired”… those are perfect opportunities to train thought towards solution rather than stagnating on the problem.

5. “Think outside of the box.” One morning, my daughter was struggling with a drawing section on a worksheet. It just wasn’t coming out the way she wanted, and I could see that she was spinning around the problem, positioning herself to get mired in a self-defeating cloud of negative self-talk. I asked if she wanted a hug, told her I understood that she was upset, then reminded her to, “Think outside of the box.” How could she get creative and solve the problem? We thought about ways of tweaking the drawing so that the blips were boons, but it wasn’t feasible. Instead, she decided to paste a blank piece of paper over the drawing portion of the worksheet and start fresh. She was, literally, breaking out of the printed box and creating her own solution! This happens to us so often in life. We make a mistake and think we have to scrap everything because it didn’t go as planned. But why waste an opportunity to be creative, when we can upcycle our mistakes? We shouldn’t hinder ourselves — or our children — because of perceived limitations. If we expand our minds and aim for creative thought, we are not just problem solvers and creators, we are turning that “mistake” into a masterpiece.

6. I believe in you. This. Is. Key. I tell my children this every day. I believe in them deeply and truly. I believe they can climb the hill, learn a new skill, conquer self-doubt, solve the problem, overcome fear, pursue goals, move towards positive outcomes. I believe wholeheartedly in them as unique individuals with hard-won and innate skills, as well as personal growth opportunities. They know this. They know that just as I love them unconditionally as individuals, my belief in them is unending. This awareness of my love for and belief in them inspires a belief in themselves. And that self-confidence is pivotal for resilience.

What do you do or say to inspire resilience in your own children?

Our Typical Homeschool Day

Often, I’m asked by non-homeschooling, temporarily-homeschooling, and homeschool-curious friends and acquaintances what our typical homeschool day looks like. Considering the frequency with which I’ve been asked this reasonable question, I figured I’d just post my answer on my tiny corner of the interwebs.

First, a little clarifying background information regarding our homeschool situation. I have a very bright, engineering-minded 5-year-old; a highly creative and mathematically-inclined 7-year-old; and a science-loving 9-year-old leader who struggles with self-confidence.

Our eldest two were formerly enrolled in a private school, which did a great job shifting to online learning last year, but it also helped us realize that online learning simply does not work for us. What does prove most effective for us: workbooks. So, that’s what we use, in combination with a math tutor for our eldest– primarily to enhance her self-confidence — and some small, masked, in-person classes at a local homeschool enrichment academy.

5-year-old’s workbooks
7-year-old’s workbooks
9-year-old’s workbooks

Regarding assessments, we do no standardized testing. I have much life experience that has made the ineffectiveness of standardized testing clear. Instead, we opted to be evaluated each trimester by a certified teacher, though we are only required to hold this assessment annually.

That said, here it is… our typical homeschool day!

8:15/8:30AM- Watch a video, discuss, and journal about our social studies topic.

9:00- Workbook time! Subjects: reading comprehension, language arts, phonics (for 5- and 7-year-old), cursive (for 7- and 9-year-old), math, vocabulary (for 7- and 9-year-old), early literacy (for 5-year-old), writing (for 7-year-old and 9-year-old), and science (for 9-year-old.)

10:30/10:45AM- Work completed… usually. (Some days we move slower, whether it’s because of moodiness or more challenging lessons, but we are almost always done by 11:00AM.)

11:00/11:15AM- lunch

12:00PM- Play outside no matter the weather.

1:00PM- Quiet time (usually arts and crafts and/or an educational TV program.)

2:30PM- Head to a local playground or park.

This is what works for us and our family. It has enabled each child to progress at their own speed along their own trajectory. My 5-year-old is racing through first grade material, my 7-year-old is in a blend of second and third grade material, and my 9-year-old is solidly succeeding with fourth grade work.

What’s most important is that they are all developing a love of learning and honing a more nuanced awareness of U.S. history.

Snapshots of SAHM Life

Being a stay-at-home mom is draining and priceless, stressful and fun-filled, chaotic and routine. It’s overwhelming and unglamorous, messy and lonely, but it’s all I ever wanted… to spend my days raising my children and experiencing their days, their fleeting childhoods. To be there.

Still, days as a stay-at-home mom often involve lots of this.

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Caffeination on the go

A bit of this.

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Multi-tasking (with now-cold caffeine)

Too much of this.

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Toy mayhem

And always this.

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The insurmountable and ever-present, Mt. Laundry

Your days may also involve this.

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Grocery shopping and babywearing

Some of this.

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Nursing

And a bit of this.

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Playdate fun

Then, of course, there’s this.

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Mid-errand tantrums

This.

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Bizarre mishaps

A lot of this.

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In-cart public meltdown and sibling brawl

And, what day would be complete without a touch of this?

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Self-dressing drama

After all of that, you get this.

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Quirky cuddles

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Family time

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Simple fun times

Because you’re there for it all, you also get to witness this.

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Proud parenting moments

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Proof of your hard work shining through

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Love between your children

And this.

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Hard-won skills blossoming

And it’s all worth it. All of it.

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Moments It’s All Worth It

Every day contains moments of laughter, frustration, disbelief, relaxation, anxiety, disgust, and happiness. Some days contain more memorably good — or not-so-good — moments than others, but that’s life. Moments like this, though, make it all worth it.

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It’s the quiet, unexpected moments that snatch your breath and make your eyes well. It’s the little things that spur you to press the mental “save” button with frenzied intensity, like an impatient elevator rider battering an elevator call button. As if you think the more you tell yourself, “Remember this! Remember THIS! REMEMBER THIS!” The more likely you will be to ensure the recollection is stored away safely in your mental files. And not have it instantaneously forgotten, like the fellow mom’s name you’ve re-asked too many times already to possibly question again without seeming senile.

Seeing the people you love most love one another is unlike anything else. It’s one of the biggest rewards of having multiple kids.

For that moment all of the tantrums and boundary-pushing, the intentionally soiled clothing and mealtime drama is forgotten. For that breath in time everything is blissful and magical. Parenthood is the most rewarding endeavor ever undertaken. You are the best parent on earth blessed with the most angelic cherubs ever dreamt.

Then someone wipes a booger on you, and you’re back to reality.

Savor those moments. During the rough times, remember they’re there… those glimmering mementos of beauty, those cherubs you see shine through the crusted snot and marker-streaked faces. Those moments of joy, they’ll carry you through. Treasure them. You earned it.

When You Realize You’re Making a Difference

Some days — if not most days — parenting is a pattern of cleaning, dressing, feeding, refereeing, playing, disciplining, and surviving. Often you wonder if your voice fizzles into nothingness as soon as it escapes your mouth. No matter your tone, your volume, or your phrasing, your offspring refuse to acknowledge your utterances. Then, there are the moments when you witness the impact of your efforts. You have undeniable proof that you are making a difference. That your hard work is worth it.

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Yesterday was one of those days for me. After school, I headed to the nail salon with my kindergartener for a surprise mother-daughter pedicure. We were overdue for one-on-one time and my toes needed some TLC. Perfect, right? Until we approached the intersection just before our destination.

Emergency vehicles swarmed in the center of the 4-way stop. Cars were being detoured. There had clearly been a significant vehicle accident. This is when people’s true colors shine through.

Those who understand the gravity of the scenario, let others in front of them in traffic, increase their politeness, and decrease their sense of urgency. Others try to take advantage of the situation and try to creep ahead of fellow travelers or, worse yet, become rude and abrasive toward those around them. Some think “us” while others think “me.”

Two cars back, a driver laid on the horn. “He shouldn’t be honking,” my daughter said, “those people just got in an accident. They could be hurt and he’s being grumpy to other drivers. He needs to be nicer right now.” The girl was spot-on. Shifting priorities, empathy, perspective… all of those talks had gotten through!

We arrived at the nail salon. The parking lot was unexpectedly packed. I’d never seen it so full. We entered the busy salon and my daughter went to pick out a nail polish color as I signed the guest book. “Do you have an appointment?” Asked one of the nail technicians, holding her client’s lotioned foot in her hand. “No, we don’t.” I replied. “Sorry, we’re busy. You come back another day.” I looked at my daughter, expecting to see tears and reddened cheeks. Instead, my 5-year-old calmly stepped away from the nail polishes, walked back to me, and grabbed my hand. She wasn’t upset. She wasn’t resentful. She was completely accepting of the plan change. All of our discussions about the value of being amenable, of accepting that life doesn’t always go as planned stuck!

We exited the nail salon and I knelt on the sidewalk. “I’m so proud of you,” I told my daughter, looking into her blue eyes, “you didn’t complain one bit about not being able to get a pedicure. I’m sorry I didn’t think to make an appointment. Thank you for being so flexible!” My daughter smiled and said, “You didn’t know it’d be busy, Mommy. It’s ok. We can just go do something else together. Maybe we can get doughnuts and I can bring some home for my brothers and Daddy.” I encircled her in a deep hug. She’s learning… it’s getting through!

Some days you end the day as a human petri dish with a sore throat from yelling, a headache from frustration, an aching back from wrangling tantrums, and a full bladder from being unable to stop to pee. Then there are those rare moments when you glimpse the success of your toils. They’re the parental trophies. Proof of our efforts.

You’re making a difference, even on your hardest days.

Wracked with Mom Guilt

The house is quiet. I desperately want to be asleep. Instead… mom guilt.

I yelled too much. I didn’t cuddle enough. They’re growing too fast. I should be more Pintrest-y. I don’t give this child enough one-on-one time. I should do more cool things with the other child. Am I teaching the youngest enough? I should make a sensory box. I should savor bedtime instead of surviving it. Should I let my littlest move forward with ridiculously early potty-training even though I really don’t want to do it right now? I’m letting the memories all slip by. I need to exercise more. Why can I not remember when my middle son first stood on his own? I feel like I failed today.

So much guilt. SO much!

So much pointless self-flagellation. If I’m going to berate myself and sacrifice much-needed sleep to do so, I might as well make it worthwhile. But how?

Tomorrow! Tomorrow is a fresh start. A new day. An opportunity to yell less, hug more, be more present and patient, be more creative and encouraging. I will do better tomorrow. At least I’ll try.

I won’t be perfect. I will slip up. I will do my best.

And that’s all we can do. We must accept our faults, learn from our mistakes, actively do better, and forgive ourselves. For what is the point of suffering guilt if not to move ourselves in a positive, remedying direction?

We are human. We are flawed. We are parents. We have tomorrow.

To Dive or Swim?

“Congratulations,” the pediatrician said to #3 during his 1-year well-check, “you’re a toddler now!” And with that, I am now in a weird state of mourning, confusion, and relief.

#3 just had his first birthday and, being the delayed processor that I am, I am only now emotionally experiencing the life event. I am only now coming to terms with this possibly being my last baby.

No more heavenly calm of a newborn asleep on my shoulder, no more hourly nighttime feedings, no more infant coos, no more labor and delivery recoveries, no more baby cuddles, no more diaper explosions, no more tiny footsie pajamas. There is so much that would rest sadly and happily in the past.

As I process my mixed emotions I begin to wonder if we should have another. In no way does my body yearn to become pregnant again. In no way do I look at an expectant mom or new baby and palpably yearn to be in that life season. For the first time in 7 years, I am not craving a baby. But yet I fear letting go of this life stage.

Will I regret it later if we don’t try one last time? Will I regret it if we do? Would the extra addition prove to be just too much?  We’re already testing all of our limits with 3 under 5. Still, as ridiculous of a reason as it may be, having a baby would keep us in this life stage longer.

My children will keep growing, moving further into their own lives and away from me. They will develop and mature, they will identify as individuals instead of as my children. I know that having one more baby wouldn’t halt that eventuality, but it would prolong my stay in this harried, exhausting, yet wonderful time… the glory days of my maternal career.

Then I think of how much easier things are with #1 and #2, being past the infant neediness and the toddler self-endangerment phases. Potty-training is done, strollers are gone, self-sufficiency is increasing. They can communicate their needs clearly. They understand social expectations (though they don’t always meet them.) They can play in a room independently without risk of grave injury or damage. They squabble and tantrum, but they are increasingly independent. It’d be nice to have the demands of very young childhood behind us for convenience’s sake.

With a 1-year-old, 3-year-old, and nearly-5-year-old, I feel as if my head is just surfacing above a rough swell. It’s beautiful beneath the waves, simultaneously tranquil and perilous, but I can only hold my breath so long before I must rise for air. Once I see the world above the sea and breathe freely, can and should I dip down again knowing my submersion will only be temporary? Knowing that the surface I see now would be entirely different the next time I reemerge? Will the sea be too rough next time? But if I don’t dive soon, I’ll lose my chance for good. Will I mourn my missed opportunity?

I know I have months before I could even begin trying (thank you, breastfeeding for delaying that cyclical annoyance!) and I wouldn’t even want to start for a while (I survived 2 under 2 once… once was enough.) Still, as a planner, I want to know. I don’t feel ready now, but will I later? Will life simply make the choice for us one way or another? Who knows?

In the meantime, I’ll just tread water and enjoy the view.

Letting Yourself Slip Through

Sometimes I get so worn down, so caught up in life drama, in external demands, in internal expectations, in arduous plans, and the infinite mom to-do list that I forget about me. I allow myself to fall through the cracks.

I have a few immovable selfish musts that I maintain every day: doing my make-up each morning (as a form of meditation and “me” time) and my pre-bed shower. They are key to me for feeling human.

Still, there are periods of time when I over-exert myself. I give too much. I over-schedule, over-plan, overachieve. In the end, I wind up under-performing (in my own eyes) and suffering mom guilt. Catch 22, right? Do too little: guilt. Do too much: guilt. Dammit!

Nearly five years into this parenting journey, I can distinguish the warning signs when I begin to enter into dangerous over-extended territory: emotional fatigue, lessened patience, foggy memory, and constant underlying or obvious stress. If I don’t watch myself I’ll begin to feel this hazy sense of loneliness even when I would have no logical reason to feel as such. During such times, I feel pressured to do more despite knowing I am already overdoing. If I didn’t heed the warning signs and factor myself back into the to-do list, eventually, I’d burn out.

I’ve never fully burnt out but I’ve definitely had the gas tank light flashing a few times. And so I must seek respite. Without it, I cannot effectively give of myself. And giving is the entirety of motherhood.

“You cannot pour from an empty cup.” They say. So I must fill my cup, and take meaningful time for me.

Don’t forget to put yourself on your to-do list. You’re important too.

A Carseat Wish

Some days you buckle and tighten the carseat straps in seconds as your child contentedly smiles up at you. Other days the straps and buckles are more like a Rubik’s Cube than restraining devices, twisting and misaligning with each effort. Certain days your child  contorts and flails making carseat buckling an olympic contact sport; facepainting a hyperactive octopus would be easier. Then there are the days you get stuck trying to get out of your own carseat.

#2 stuck exiting his carseat

#2 stuck exiting his carseat

May your carseat straps stay untwisted, your toddlers amenable to buckling, and your carseat exits unimpeded today, my friends!