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
