A few weeks ago, Elle wouldn't stop putting food in her hair at lunch.
I asked her to stop, but she's a baby and every time she hears the word "hair"—even if it's in the sentence "Please stop touching your hair"—she touches her hair.
That's kinda on me, but I was still annoyed, so when it came time to clean her up, I wasn't particularly slow and patient as I wiped down her hair, head, and face.
After I finished, I turned my attention to her dishes but saw her hitting herself in the head out of the corner of my eye.
"Oh, baby!" I cried, instantly sad. "Be gentle to your head!"
And it hit me like a ton of bricks: she was doing to herself what she felt like I'd been doing. While I was not even close to "hitting" her in the head, that's what it felt like to her. She was copying me.
If I want her to be gentle to her head, I have to be gentle to her head.
Elle copies everything. She notices when a sock is hanging over the side of the hamper and flips it all the way into the basket, like I do. She mimics our facial expressions when we're talking at dinner. If I want her to take a drink of water, all I have to do is take a sip myself. I killed a spider with a shoe the other day, and the next thing I know she's whacking a shoe against the floor.
I saw a chilling meme the other day that said, "Face your demons, or they'll raise your children." That's the weirdest part of parenting so far. I've believed that concept for years, but it's manifesting in more (and more tangible) ways than I expected. I knew I needed to transform myself in terms of frustration intolerance, anger management, and body image, but...now I'm seeing that I need to transform myself in everything. If I don't want Elle to think/do/say/tolerate something, I can't do it either. Kids don't do what you SAY; they do what you DO. I can't just believe the talk, I have to walk the walk.
And it's like dang, faking it for her is hard enough. Now I have to change for REAL?
Fortunately, I'm sort of a self-improvement junkie. That's what this blog is all about.
Unfortunately, I am real messed up 😂 I feel a "Facing My Demons" series or something coming soon.
*raises a glass of creatine mixed with strawberry lemonade* Let's do this.
~Stephanie
I don't understand when people lie to children as a joke.
If you do that, you will probably feel uncomfortable or attacked by this post, but honestly I'm not even sorry XD I think you should stop.
"How is the baby eating in the bedroom?" asks a four-year-old girl.
"Moms make food for their babies with their breasts," someone answers.
"Yeah," someone else chimes in. "Their boobs produce sandwiches."
Everyone laughs and moves on. The girl is left confused and misinformed about how her body works.
"What does that button do?" asks a little boy as he points to the trip meter reset button in the car.
"Oh, that?" says an older brother, smirking. "That's the self-destruct button."
The joke continues for years, leading the boy to have a panic attack when someone pushes it later.
"What's that?" asks a toddler when a motorcycle drives by in the distance.
"A velociraptor," says a neighbor. "Or maybe aliens."
The toddler frowns, knowing that's probably not true, but a little tendril of fear grows in her belly and resurfaces every time she hears that sound.
Some adults do this because they think it's funny. Here is what's actually happening: they have power (knowledge, life experience, an understanding of irony and sarcasm), and they're using it to abuse someone weaker (uninformed, innocent, still learning social rules).
When is that ever funny? Does it make you feel clever to perform for other adults nearby at the expense of a child? Do you feel smarter when you exploit the ignorance of someone a quarter your age? Do you feel powerful when a little person comes to you for help understanding the world and you make them the butt of a joke instead?
"Oh come on," you say. "It's not that serious. They're gonna have to learn about humor sometime."
Yeah, absolutely. In general, humor is a natural development. Once kids know how the world does work, they'll recognize the irony and sarcasm in hearing jokes about how it doesn't.
But you're not helping them develop that skill when you lie to them for funzies. Instead, you teach them that you're not trustworthy. You teach them that adults are there to mock them, not help them. You teach them that they don't speak the language everyone else does, but without offering to translate. The child will have to filter everything you say through the lens of "this might be a joke...he might be making fun of me...that might not be real..." The child will watch you say something and smirk at the people around you, and maybe she'll smile hopefully, trying to be part of what's happening, but she still doesn't know the truth.
The joke might never come up again, or the child might go on to have a panic attack. He might still choose to trust you later, but it will always come with a pit in his stomach as he takes the gamble.
Lying to a child as a joke is such a weak, cowardly, mean form of humor to me. Like, congratulations, you lied to someone who doesn't know any better? Do you also do their 5-piece peg puzzles faster than them and say, "HA HA"?
Do better with your knowledge. Do better with your experience. If there's an innocence-exploiting zinger just absolutely burning a hole in your brain, go ahead and make the joke, I guess, but at least circle back to tell the child the truth. Don't make them a prop for your stand-up routine.
Whew. We haven't heard from the Eight version of Stephanie in a while. I'm glad to know she's still here, and glad she has an ENFJ cohost for the day-to-day.
~Stephanie
P.S. I know the image isn't of a velociraptor, but it fits the color scheme of the blog 😂
One of the trends in millennial parenting is reframing the way we speak. In a lot of ways, I find the practice overwhelming and...overcomplicated. Don't tell your kids you're proud of them, because that teaches them to seek external validation. Don't tell your daughters they're pretty, because that might suggest their value lies in their looks. Don't tell them what NOT to do, because toddler brains have trouble interpreting negatives. Instead, say "You must be so proud of yourself," tell your daughters they're brave and smart, and tell toddlers what you WANT them to do instead.
I happen to believe in most of the suggested linguistic changes. The theories are backed by neuroscience and behavioral therapists.
However, there are simply too many things to keep track of as a parent. I cannot be mentally diagramming a sentence or putting it through Mr. Rogers' nine rules of speaking to children every time I need to reign in the chaos of breakfast. (I mean, I do try, and it's getting faster and easier, but...come on.)
Instead of doing an entire syntax extreme makeover, I've decided to focus on two changes: 1) stating what I want Elle TO do instead of what I want her NOT to do, and—the one I really want to talk about here— 2) being very intentional about the words "want" versus "need."
I don't know when I first noticed it, but there's a lot of misuse of "need" going around, especially when it comes to kids. It's not "Do you need more raspberries?" it's "Do you want more raspberries?" It's not "Do you need to hold the pretty necklace?" it's "Do you want to hold the pretty necklace?" Conflating the words isn't just confusing to someone learning language for the first time, I think it might be harmful to the person's mind, maybe even her soul.
Every day we're tricked into thinking we need something that we just want. There are real needs, like food, water, air, medicine, community, God, but we don't need to stop and get food just because we're hungry and we're out, or redo the entire bathroom because we had to replace the countertop, or buy a brand new dress because we're going to a wedding.
But even less obvious, I don't NEED Elle to let go of my hand so that I can do the dishes. I WANT Elle to let go of my hand because I WANT to do the dishes right now. The sentence goes from "Mama needs you to let go of her hand" to "Mama wants to use both hands to do the dishes."
"Needs" are vital, desperate, not particularly open to negotiation. That is not the way I want my daughter—or myself—to view life. "Wants" are choices: they return our power to us; they acknowledge that our desire is within our own boundaries. If I say that I WANT to use both hands to do the dishes, I am recognizing that it's a desire that comes from ME, not a need that must be met by someone else. In fact, I can choose to prioritize something else over my desire. I can decide that it is more important to honor Elle's craving for affection right now than it is to get the dishes done right away.
Stating things as "wants" helps me to hear what's really going on. When I say, "Mama wants to get dressed so we can leave" instead of "Mama needs to get dressed," I hear that being on time is important to me—but it isn't a need. I have the privilege of choosing punctuality for something that I want to do. The situation becomes a gift instead of a burden. It is within my power to decide do something, and within my power to prioritize being on time, and within my power to put Elle down and get dressed to make it happen. All of those are MY choices, none of them are imperatives, and none of them are Elle's problem to manage.
If we're running late, it's not because Elle made a mess at breakfast or acted like a rabid ferret when I tried to put her clothes on; it's because I chose to give her yogurt and only allot five minutes for getting her dressed. I don't NEED her to cooperate with me; I WANT her to, and I want to raise her in a way that makes her truly aware of the difference. We can achieve needs as a team, sure, but there's something sweeter and more intimate about achieving wants together. There's less pressure, less guilt, more joy.
At least that's the hope. And even if using want/need appropriately does nothing for Elle's brain, it's doing a whole lot for mine.
~Stephanie
A few years ago, I saw this TikTok. In it, a guy hands his 18-ish-month-old niece a little bottle of orange juice and lets her pour it into a martini glass, which she does...but she sloshes it over the glass, onto the glass, around the glass, and keeps pouring even as the uncle gasps and tries to salvage the situation. There's a moment where they both look at the camera, and then the uncle says something that has changed my brain chemistry when parenting:
"For some reason..." he says calmly. "I didn't think you'd pour the whole thing. That's kinda on me."
That's kinda on me.
Babies are gonna be babies. Kids are gonna be kids. If an adult doesn't want something to happen, it is their responsibility—as the one with life experience and impulse control—to prevent it from happening.
If you give a baby an open bottle of orange juice, it is not their fault when it ends up all over the table.
If you put your Starbucks drink in the Target cart cupholder, it is not the baby's fault when it gets thrown on the floor.
If you let a baby help unload the dishwasher, it is not the baby's fault when she drops a bowl and breaks it.
If you have unregulated emotions, it is not the baby's fault when you feel like screaming.
At first, I would've assumed that this mentality would make me MORE stressed out. Like, great—so everything is MY fault. How is that better? But I've actually found that it allows me to let go of a lot of anger toward my baby.
First of all, the phrase "that's kinda on me" feels like lighthearted closure. You've acknowledged the situation, you've chalked it up to living and learning, and you're poised to move on. It's like an anti-dwelling motto.
Second, taking ownership means that it isn't the baby's job to change anything; it's yours. Maybe you need to hold your match latte in your hand if you know your baby is in a "throwing things" phase. Maybe you need to set different boundaries ("Elle can help unload the silverware, but only Mama unloads the dishes"). It is not the baby's fault.
And if it's not the baby's fault, then it doesn't make sense to be angry at her.
I really struggle with anger. I grew up with the mentality that people can cause you to be angry, and it is then their fault—not yours—if you're snippy or impatient or mean to them. I truly believed that provoking anger was a transgression, and that people were justified in being angry at the transgressor. They caused the anger by being annoying/tardy/inconsiderate/stupid so they get to suffer. Or, even if someone is mad and it isn't another person's fault, it's still okay to act angry at or around them because anger is simply the natural and unavoidable outcome of someone or something tripping a trigger.
Then I married a man who believes that there is NEVER an excuse to be rude. I'm not exaggerating. Gabe dead-ass thinks that it's never okay to be unkind, no matter how angry or frustrated or tired you are. And he lives that way. Gabe has genuinely never been mean to me. We have been married for a decade next month, and he has never been mean to me.
I've known for years that I needed to get my anger issues under control, but having Elle made it absolutely crucial. I do not want my moods or frustrations to be the weather in our home. I do not want Elle to wonder if she's going to get the patient version of mom or the pissy version. I do not want to model being at the mercy of my emotions, demanding that she control herself when I cannot.
Thanks to Jesus, Gabe, TheYeetBaby, the book Good Inside, and baby Elle, I'm trying to change. I'm trying to believe that people can't "make" me angry; anger happens inside MY mind. If someone is annoying me, it is still my responsibility to control myself. If someone is rude to me, it is still my responsibility to choose kindness.
This is SUCH a steep uphill battle, but I'm proud of myself for climbing. I blew my own mind by not getting externally mad at Elle when she chucked my drink. I literally said, "That's kinda on me. Mama should not have put her drink there" and went to find a Target associate to tell about the spill. Was I seething inside? Yes, I was. It had already been a tough week and we're being really careful with money and I'd been thinking about that matcha latte since the day before. All I wanted was to have a few pleasant minutes in Target, and my baby ruined it by doing what I had repeatedly asked her not to do.
But she's a baby. And my anger is my problem, not hers. And it is never okay to be unkind.
It's after 10pm and I've reorganized this post three different times and it still doesn't feel right and I'm tempted to use ChatGPT to help me but it's really important to me that I maintain the ability to express myself in a clear and orderly and beautiful way, and I don't know if I've done that, but there's SOMETHING here and I hope it makes sense to you, and I'm really tired and I'm going to bed now.
~Stephanie
Maybe this post will be interesting, maybe it will come off like bragging. (That's actually one of the weirdly isolating things I've noticed about parenthood: if you talk about what's going well, it feels prideful or naive. If you talk about what's going poorly, it sounds like complaining or ingratitude.) When we were expecting Baby Elle, I loved reading about or watching other parents' lifestyles and techniques, sometimes because I wanted to emulate them, sometimes because I wanted to hate them. You're welcome to do either as well XD
I'm Glad We...
Prioritized pregnancy and postpartum core work - I took core and pelvic floor work SO seriously during these seasons, and it paid me back a hundred fold. I had no diastasis recti (ab separation) while pregnant, and I do not pee myself when I jump today. Those first few weeks post-pushing, I was shocked at how much I relied on my abs. I needed them to lean forward to reach my water, to brace my core when changing positions with Elle, to support my organs as they healed. If you're pregnant, I cannot recommend core and pelvic floor work enough. (This realization also had me in AWE of c-section mamas, who have to go through postpartum AND surgery recovery AND can't use their abs for weeks?! Y'all are another level of superwomen, for real.)
Chose baby-led weaning - I was weirdly excited to try this approach to food, and we've LOVED it! Elle is so good at using utensils, makes very little mess AT THIS POINT (unless she loves the food too much to contain herself), and likes trying new foods. I hear the toddler years are going to have us doing a 180 on most of that, but so far we've had a lot of fun and I'm glad we used this approach 😂 I will say if you're going to go this route, you gotta make peace with the mess ahead of time. There's going to be a lot of wiping and spraying and changing clothes and finding shreds of cheese and dried yogurt and grains of rice around your house for...maybe ever.
Let Elle go barefoot - Elle has, uh, almost never worn shoes. She has tried shoes ON, and she's walked around the house in them for fun, and she wore them once to a park because its surface was asphalty, but that's it. Barefoot is supposed to be really good for brain development and body awareness, and y'all know we love us some of that. All winter long it was socks only; around the house and in the yard and on the sidewalk and at the library and at the coffee shop it's been barefoot. Maybe that's gross, but as my friend Meghan said, "That's what wipes are for" 😂
Avoided screen time - I don't think there's any way to write this bullet point without sounding judgy, but Elle has never watched a screen. We don't have the TV on when she's in the room, we try not to use our phones around her, and we sit her with her back to the TVs at restaurants. This was REALLY difficult at first. I didn't realize how much TV I'd gotten used to watching during the day until we had Elle, but thankfully it's gotten easier the longer we've done it. Who's to say what's personality and what's environment, but Elle is the queen of less-is-more entertainment. She finds delight in very simple things, like holding mulch, or moving tea bags from one chair to another, or seeing how things look different through the mesh on the back of our camp chair. She likes people watching and is extremely easy to keep engaged. Again, this could have nothing to do with screens/no screens, but we've only been happy about this decision.
If we're able to get pregnant again one day, it'll be interesting to see which of these things we do again, and which are first-time-parent privileges. For example, it would be a lot more difficult to fit in a daily core work regimen with a toddler, or keep a toddler quiet during a baby's nap time without screens. I hope one day we'll get to find out—but not for a couple of years at least, please Lawd 🤣~Stephanie
