Changing Perspectives Blog |
Changing Perspectives Blog |
Those of you who know me have probably heard me mention the use of essential oils in our household. There are multilevel marketing companies selling quality essential oils, therapists and doctors diffusing essential oils in their waiting rooms and more mainstreet retailers are now carrying essential oils in their stores.
But, if you are anything like I was a couple of years ago, you likely are overwhelmed and confused by all of the essential oil options and uses today. Here are the top 7 ways my family uses essential oils in our home: 1. Headaches My oldest son gets migraines fairly often and I am frequently hit with tension headaches. Essential oils have done wonders for our headaches. I prefer to use the straight Peppermint Essential Oil while my son prefers to use Head Ease Essential Oil Blend. As with all essential oils, they can be diffused with water in an essential oil diffuser (see the end of this post for a link to some of my favorite diffusers) or diluted with a Carrier Oil and then applied directly onto the skin. When it comes to headaches, essential oil applied to the temples can knock a headache away in just a few minutes. 2. Insomnia Do you ever have those nights where you just can't relax and calm down? Those nights where you stare at the clock and watch your sleep opportunity literally tick away? Those are the nights we find ourselves turning to either pure Lavendar Essential Oil or Good Night Essential Oil Blend. As with the oils for headaches, these can be diffused or mixed with a carrier oil and applied to the temples. 3. Colds and Respiratory Viruses When you have kids, there will inevitably be times where you feel like you are living in a germ factory and few things are worse than the discomfort brought about by a head cold. We love to diffuse Eucalyptus Essential Oil or Breathe Easier Essential Oil Blend. When my boys have a cold, I'm extremely generous with the oils, I belnd them with a carrier oil, apply to their chest, back and even the bottoms of their feet AND I diffuse the oils. I don't know that it shortens the illness, but it certainly makes it easier to sleep. 4. Sunburns We've all done it. Despite frequent re-application of sunscreen, wearing gigantic beach hats and triyng to hide under rash guards and giant umbrellas, we all have come home with a sunburn on ourselves and our children. While I am always partial to pure aloe to help the sunburn heal, my children have become very fond of how it feels to have a blend of carrier oil and Peppermint Essential Oil applied to their skin before bed after a sunburn. 5. Food Smells I love cooking but I HATE the way my hands and my kitchen smell after working with garlic and onions. A good Lemon Essential Oil or Simply Citrus Essential Oil Blend mixed in with a carrier oil can cut through the most offensive food odors. Diffusing these in the kitchen also tends to freshen the air without overpowering the scent of whatever is cooking. 6. Stinky Shoes You know that horrid smell when your children wear their shoes outside in the wet, rainy weather or, worse yet, when they decide to wear their shoes without socks? You know that smell. The one that kicks you in the stomach and makes you want to burn the shoes. Before you burn them, buy yourself a bottle of Four Thieves Essential Oil. Now, be forewarned. This stuff smells awful. But, it works. When you have a foul smelling sneaker or trashcan problem, put some of this oil on a cotton ball and leave it overnight in the shoe or in the trash can. Somehow it absorbs the terrible odors. It has also been said that diffusing this essential oil can build up immunity and ward off illnesses. I cannot get past the smell to try to diffuse it. Let me know if it works for you. 7. Boys As I revealed in my blog, Raising Aliens, I am raising stinky alien-like boys. Sometimes these aliens make our house smell very unhuman-like. During times like these, I love to diffuse some nice essential oils throughout my house. My favorite is Hope Essential Oil but Eden's Garden sells a wide variety of very pleasant smelling essential oil blends and sets like this one. While there are countless companies that sell essential oils these days, I prefer the Eden's Garden product line as their oils are affordable, reliable, consistent and ship super fast through Amazon. The last few sets that I purchased from Eden's Garden came with a detailed booklet with over 100 ways to use essential oils. It's been a great resource! To view a variety of different diffuser options, please visit the link below: To see more of my family's favorite essential oils, visit my store. Go ahead and try a few oils and let me know what you and your family think.
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Sometimes I look at my children and I can totally and completely understand what is happening inside their brains. I get them. It's like they are little versions of me as a child, yet slightly different and much improved. Their choices in food, music, television and movies often sync perfectly with mine. The way they approach problems and their interpretations of the world also line up neatly with my own. They are perfect little humans.
Then there are other times where I look at my children and I don't get them. At all. In those moments, I look at their handsome faces, devilish eyes and playful grins and think that surely I gave birth to aliens. How on Earth can they be so vastly different than me? So unhuman at times?? Clearly, the only answer is that I am raising aliens. If your son approaches the following topics the same way as my boys do, then it's safe to say that you may also be raising aliens: Pants It's snowing outside, why is it so terrible that I require my children wear pants to school? "Mom!? No one else wears pants!" "Can't I just wear shorts and long socks instead?" Yeah. That's a great look. Toilets Why is it so hard to pee IN the toilet? This is not a problem to which I can relate. (Although I have been in enough public women's restrooms to know that clearly it IS an issue for some women.) Shoes Mornings would be so much easier if my children would put their shoes where they belong each night. But, for some reason, they prefer the very fun game of "I can't find my shoes!" every morning where we pull open drawers, look under beds and couches, and rummage through closets to find shoes as we rush to make it out the door on time. Apparently it's super fun for them to see me lose my mind each morning. Coats You know what you won't find when you open my closets? Shoes. (see above) You know what else you won't find? Boy's coats. They despise wearing them. They would prefer that I wash their 3 Under Armour sweatshirts daily so they can wear those as coats. I got tired of hearing "Mom!? Why can't I just wear 4 layers of shirts and sweatshirts?" So, I gave up on coats. Scents Good God. Why can't my children smell themselves? I've lost count of how many times I have walked by my children and had to stop, lean closer, sniff them and then banish them to another shower. "Did you use deodorant this morning?" I always ask. "Oh. No. I forgot. Oops." Every. Damn. Day. How they have friends is beyond me. Perhaps they all smell like dirty feet. Balls If a ball makes its way inside my house, my boys seem to be programmed by their mother ship to throw the ball inside the house as much as possible and as close as possible to all things breakable. Lamps. Chandeliers. Mirrors. Anything delicate and expensive will be in the direct path of the ball. Bottles I think the Alien Code of Conduct states that all plastic water bottles must be left 1/3 filled to maximize the ability of said bottles to be flipped and capped, bonus points for dabbing after capping it. If you have 15 almost empty water bottles scattered throughout your house or you find yourself shouting “Stop with the bottles!!!” then you probably live with aliens. Decision-making Someday I will conduct and publish a study about how the IQ of pre-adolescent boys drops significantly whenever they are in groups. The more boys there are in the group, the lower the group's IQ. Each time they get together, I find myself saying something along the lines of "Remember all those crazy things you got in trouble for last time? Don't do those again this time" and then I try to look at the environment and see what crazy decisions they can make this time. Inevitably I forget something... So, what’s the best way to approach the difficult task of raising aliens? 1. Don’t try to see the world through their eyes. You’ll hurt yourself. 2. Pick your battles. You need to conserve your energy when it comes to aliens. 3. Learn to speak their language. Yes, this may mean that you need to learn how to flip bottles, dab, juju on that beat, whip and even nae nae. 4. Utilize their communication systems. You may need to become proficient in things like Musicly and Snapchat so you can monitor their interactions and make sure your alien is not being a jerky alien. 5. Stockpile deodorant. You never know when your little alien might need some extra deodorant so it’s a good idea to keep a few spares around. 6. Invest in a good washing machine. You’ll need it to keep up with the alien stench that arises when they forget the aforementioned deodorant. 7. Hold on tight. Love your little alien fiercely and take advantage of all the moments you have with them. Snuggle them when they let you. Hold their hand when they let you. Lay in their stinky alien bed at night before they drift off to sleep and talk about their day with them. Time moves faster when you are raising an alien – hold onto it before it slips away. For more blog entries on raising aliens (and boys), be sure to check out the links below: Are you a teacher, school administrator or school support personnel? If so, think back over the past three years. How many times has a student in your school lost a parent, sibling or significant family member? How many times has your school community lost a student or a teacher? Chances are fairly high that every single one of you could think of at least one instance where grief reared its ugly head in your school. Now, think back to your professional training experiences. How many courses did you take about the psychology of grief, common grief counseling interventions or how to support grief inside the classroom? How many grief courses were required for your professional licensure? For most of you, the answer to both questions is probably "none." The statistics regarding children's grief in schools are staggering. According to Comfort Zone Camp, one out of every 7 Americans will lose a sibling or a parent before the age of 20. That's 15% of children under age 20. Yet, it's not unusual for teachers to feel completely unprepared when it comes to supporting a grieving child in their classroom. Teachers are with our children 5-6 hours each day, 5 days each week, 9 months a year. They are the frontlines of support in the classroom for grieving children yet we arm them with few resources and guidance on what to do and what not to do. For many people, things that make us uncomfortable or cause us to feel inadequate and unprepared often become things we avoid. It seems like this holds true for many teachers and schools across America. Grief is not discussed in many classrooms. Most classroom libraries probably do not have books on death, loss or grief. Group discussions after a death strikes a classroom are likely a rarity. Teachers surely make referrals to the school social worker (if one exists in the building) and figure that it's probably best to not mention the loss to the grieving child or to their peers. After all, they don't want to make their students hurt even more. But, the silence many grieving children receive from their schools following a loss can be deafening. Below are some tips to help teachers and districts begin to improve their ability to provide support to grieving children within the classroom. Remember, nearly 15% of your students are likely to experience a significant loss before they reach the age of 20. How to Support Children’s Grief in the Classroom 1. Reach out Perhaps the most important suggestion I can offer is to take an active role. When you hear of a child's loss, reach out. You will not be inconveniencing the family. You will not be a bother to them. Your genuine concern and offer of support could be something that is remembered forever. While you cannot take away that student's loss, by reaching out you are telling them and their family that they are important to you and that they are valued members of the school community. You don't have to offer anything - just your acknowledgement of their loss and validation of their worth is important enough. 2. Share accurate information In today's super connected society, news travels at lightening fast speeds. One Facebook or Twitter post can notify a whole community of a death in just a few moments. Sometimes the information that gets circulated is based on speculation and is inaccurate. One of the best ways to address this issue is to formally share the information with the correct details. Ask the student's family what information they would like shared and if they would like someone from the school to share it with the school community. Imagine the stress a student may feel returning to school but not knowing who knows about their father's death. Who do they have to tell? What do they need to say? When someone from the school takes that pressure away from the family and child, they take away what can be a very heavy burden. 3. Involve peers No matter the grade, one of the most important aspects of any child's school experience is their relationship with their peers. When a student loses a family member, it is important for their peers to not just be notified but to be provided with an opportunity to explore the loss themselves. Perhaps their friend's now deceased parent used to volunteer on Field Day or helped out in a carpool or came to school on the student's birthday each year. For many children, seeing a peer lose an important family member can also trigger worries about the possibility of losing their own loved one. That math unit can wait a day while classrooms take an hour to allow the peers to ask questions, support each other and perhaps even identify a way to help their peer. 4. Formally commemorate Most schools value formal ceremonies. School concerts, school plays, pep rallies, academic assemblies, holiday gatherings and graduations are common occurrences in schools. Why? Because they bring the community together, reinforce the concept of interconnectedness and allow for shared experiences. Schools should not be saving these formal gatherings only for positive moments. During times of grief, schools can find a way to bring everyone together to commemorate the loss of a member of their own community. Some schools plant a tree, install a bench or hold a naming ceremony when the community experiences a significant loss. Formal commemoration activities can also be done on a smaller scale. Perhaps the student's classmates could put together a book of poems, cards or pictures that the students create and then give the book to the grieving child and family (teachers and parents should proof it first though!). 5. Be flexible For many children, returning to school provides them with security, structure and safety. It is not uncommon or abnormal for a child to want to go to school the very next day after they have had a loss. School can provide grieving children with an opportunity to be distracted from the loss and sadness for short periods of time. It can allow them to feel normal and feel a connection to the life had prior to the loss. But, for many students, there are moments in the school day when they may find it challenging to focus, attend to a task or even sit still. Be flexible with children, regardless of their age, when it comes to their coursework after the loss. Accommodations such as extending deadlines and allowing extra bathroom breaks will probably not ruin the child academically. However, setting rigid standards, being inflexible or accusing children of taking advantage of their grief situation may set children back academically, socially and emotionally. Yes, I am even suggesting applying this same flexibility to teens. 6. Resist the urge to share and compare While you may have had a similar loss as a child, it is not always helpful to share such experiences with a grieving child. It can potentially minimize their experience and loss. The same holds true to statements like "I lost my Dad too. I know how it feels." The truth is that no two people experience loss and grief in the same way. Avoid sharing and comparing your own experiences and focus instead on providing genuine support. 7. Anticipate re-grieving Many adults who have experienced a loss can appreciate that there are certain times of the year where their grief gets re-triggered. Anniversaries of the death, certain holidays and birthdays are all common events that can cause a surge in grief. Children experience this same phenomenon but they also have an added layer of complexity in their grief. As children develop cognitively, emotionally and socially, they begin to understand and view their world differently. They start to apply different questions and interpretations to their world and to any losses they may have had. So, while your 6th grade student may have lost their sister in the 2nd grade, they may re-grieve that loss in completely new terms as they begin to see the world through 6th grade eyes. For them, it could feel as if the loss is brand new. 8. Track community losses Schools and school districts should consider tracking data around grieving children - even if it is only for certain losses such as parents or siblings. Tracking this data will allow districts and schools to identify patterns that are out of the ordinary. For example, if your small elementary school has 9 students who have lost a parent in a span of 2 years, your school may want to explore the possibility of offering more specific resources for those students and families as well as the rest of the school community. That's a lot of grief to be experiencing for one school in one short period of time. 9. Support the staff Let's face it, being a teacher is one of the hardest jobs out there. Teachers are tasked with an immense amount of goals, objectives and responsibilities without an immense amount of funding or resources. While grief can enter the classroom through the experiences of the students, it can also enter the classroom through the experiences of the school staff. Teachers, administrators and staff members all also encounter loss and may be actively grieving alongside the grieving children in the school. Explore ways to come together to support each other as professionals. 10. Provide support over time There is no timeline for grief. There is no such thing as closure. When people lose someone important to them to death they don't ever get over it. Grief is with them forever and while sometimes it's a silent companion, other times it's a loud, unruly, disruptive companion who is difficult to manage. Just as grief will exist over a long time frame, so too should the support from the school. Check in frequently with the student to see what they need, not just in the days and weeks immediately following the loss but in the months and years after the loss as well. If you are interested in receiving additional training and education on the topic of supporting children's grief in the schools, be sure to visit Children & Grief: Guidance and Support Resources from Scholastic/New York Life for helpful resources such as lesson plans, handouts and training modules. Also explore the website for the National Alliance for Grieving Children for additional training resources and to identify children's grief centers in your area. If you are in the Massachusetts area and would like to arrange for a grief/bereavement in-service in your school, please send an email to me at jennibrennanlicsw@gmail.com for more information.
For more blog articles on grief, click the links below:
This week has marked the return of our family's favorite visitors: Max the Elf and Jolly the Reindeer. If you have children and enjoy stressing yourself out every night, you probably have similar visitors in your home this time of year. My good friend, Siri, has once again started reminding me every night around 9PM to "move the thing" (code for "get yourself out of bed and with ninja-like stealth, find somewhere different for Max and Jolly to hang out"). My yeary excel sheet is favorited on my computer again, complete with specific dates for when Max and Jolly will do fun things like leave snowmen donuts or make snowflake cut-outs or build a Christmas tree out of legos. And I have already found myself, on more than one occassion, threatening my children with statements like "Do you really want to be doing that in front of Max?" or "Max can totally see this behavior right now and he's probably going to tell Santa." Do you know what else has made its return to our family's home this week? The magic of Christmas. I know. Could I be any more hokey and cheesey? It's true though. The first thing my children do each morning is look for Max and Jolly, smiling with relief when they see that they have safely returned from the North Pole. Christmas music is usually playing in the background at night and the boys rush to turn on the Christmas lights each afternoon. Last night my youngest even left a letter with some logistical questions about reindeer for Max and this morning he found Max's response. I think this is Max's 8th Christmas with us (as we resisted the thought of an elf at first) and his return each year helps illuminate just how much has changed in our family from year to year. His return also marks the return of many annual family traditions that I now cherish. Max, Jolly and the idea of Santa bring a whole lot of joy to our lives this time of year. If you know me or you've followed my blogs, you know that my oldest child is 11 years old now. He is perched on the fence between childhood and adolescence and when it comes to the magic of Christmas, he is firmly on the childhood side of the fence. He still believes. Wholeheartedly! (Or, perhaps he is just an amazing actor and is afraid that he won't get presents on Christmas morning if he questions it too much.) As more and more of my oldest son's friends, some older and some younger, have found out the story behind Santa and the Elf, I have begun to wonder if I should tell him or wait until he asks me about it. Should I let him go to school and talk abiout it, text his friends about it and continue to believe so strongly just as he did when he was 5 years old? Should I protect him from the risk of being made fun of by his peers? Should I make sure that I am the one to tell him the truth versus hearing it from someone else? Should I let him in on the secret and find a way for him to participate in keeping the magic alive for his younger brother? After thinking about it for a few days, I have decided that I am in no rush to force him over the fence. While I don't want kids at school or on his sports teams to make fun of him for still believing in these things, I also don't want to make a decision about his life based on the mean actions of some kids. Plus, telling him won't protect him from being teased as there will always be something that children can tease other children about. What other benefit is there to telling him right now? It brings him joy, wonder and keeps the world feeling safe and fun. Right now, I don't think this is a bad thing. I am always saying that I wish I could put my kids into a protective bubble sometimes to shield them from the difficulties of our world. This magic of Christmas that Max, Jolly and Santa usher in each year is a bit like that protective bubble. So, at least for now, I'm going to enjoy the bubble and I'm going to let my 11 year old enjoy the magic of Christmas for a while longer - even if it does mean I have to fine tune my stealthy ninja skills.
It's that time of year again. Dunkin Donuts and Starbucks have rolled out their festive holiday cups. Stores are filled with holiday decorations and pine tree scents. Radios have begun playing holiday music. Santa has already arrived in some locations for photos. Families are starting to post and send their Christmas cards (not mine though - we can't get our act together that quickly!). Turkeys are on sale and people are planning out their pie baking schedule. All around us are the sights, sounds and smells of the holidays. Such a wonderful and joyous time of the year. Right?
Not for everyone. For many people, the winter holidays are excruciatingly painful. Either they have recently lost a loved one and this will be their first holiday season without them or the holiday season is a sad reminder of their lost loved one. When they see all the happy, smiling faces on Christmas cards, they are reminded that their loved one won't be on any cards this season. That adorable, heart-warming commercial with the cheerful family seated around the Thanksgiving dinner table makes them realize there will be an empty chair at their own Thanksgiving table this year. While perusing their local Target, a holiday sale banner catches their eye and they see "the" perfect gift for their loved one, forgetting for just a split second that there will be no gift exchange with their lost loved one this year. Maybe you know these people. You probably do. Think about your friends, your family, your coworkers. How many of them lost someone within the past year? How many lost a very important person ever and might ache for them throughout the holiday season? Maybe this person is you and you find yourself dreading the holiday season. For those of us living in parts of the country where the sun sets earlier, leaving us in darkness from 4:30pm on, the nights can start to feel painfully long and lonely this time of year. The colder weather forces us indoors, encouraging us to hibernate. But if you have recently lost a loved one, the longer nights, colder temperatures and holidays on the horizon can all add up to a deep, dark sadness. Whether you are the one hurting this holiday season or you know someone for whom the holidays are difficult, there are some tips to help you manage the grief that is often so palpable this time of year. How to survive the holiday season when you are grieving 1. Honor your loved one So often our society pressures us to "move on," "heal," "find closure," or "let go" of our loved ones. Those messages are wrong. We shouldn't be letting go; we should be finding new ways to hold on to them, hold onto our memories of them and find a new way to feel connected to them. Spend some time thinking about how best to honor your loved one this season. It could be as simple as lighting a candle or hanging a special ornament on your tree. Maybe it's volunteering to feed the homeless, host a toy drive for children or sponsoring a family for Christmas. Go to their favorite restaurant. Cook their famous side dish. Wear their necklace. Stop trying to forget them. Instead, embrace your memories of them. Talk about them. Say their name and say it often. 2. Allow yourself to feel It's amazing how connected our senses are to our emotions. Just a certain smell in the air or a song on the radio can take us back to another time in our life. The holidays can do this too. Don't be surprised if you find yourself more emotional than usual. If you need to cry, cry. If you you need to express some anger, take up kickboxing or scream into a pillow. Seriously. Let out your emotions. If you try to bottle up all of your feelings, they probably will escape at the most inopportune times - like when your child spills his glass of apple juice, someone cuts you off on the highway or that lady in front of you tries to sneak 13 items into the 12 item or less express line at the grocery store. Feeling all of your emotions doesn't make you weak; it makes you human. 3. Be social...or don't It's normal to not want to celebrate at all during the holidays after a loss. Seeing so many people laughing and filled with joy can feel surreal when your world is still spinning uncontrollably after a loss. If you don't want to attend some of the holiday functions, don't. You know yourself best. One word of caution, however: isolation after a loss can lead to depression and complicated grief. Sometimes it's good to force yourself to socialize, just a little. When you do accept an invitation somewhere, though, give yourself an escape route to use if things suddenly feel too much. 4. Speak up For many people, their support networks kick into hyper drive following a loss. Phone calls, texts, visits, casseroles and cards are pouring in almost non-stop immediately following the death. But after the funeral, those types of support can suddenly come to a crashing halt. Do people suddenly stop caring? No. Many people are uncomfrotable around grief and simply don't know what to say, what to do or how to act. So, they avoid. Don't be afraid to tell your support network what you need. It's ok to ask for specific things like invitiations to social events, regular phone calls, a visit, staying away for a while and even practical help with things like errands and child care. In most cases, your support network will be delighted to have been given a specific way to be useful and supportive for you. 5. Be kind to yourself Watch for negative self-talk and talking down about yourself. Thinking or saying things like "I shouldn't be crying like this" "This shouldn't bother me so much" "What's wrong with me" only bring us down more. Be kind and understanding to yourself. Grief doesn't go away. It's always there inside you. You carry it around with you and sometimes it's heavier than other times. It's normal and it's ok. Recognize that it is normal for this time of year to be more painful and challenging and also look for the things and people that bring you hope. Do things that make you feel good and nurture yourself. Yoga. Walk. Exercise. Journal. Read. Play music. Listen to music. Start therapy. Attend a support group (see the end of this article for a link to some groups). Remember that you are human and deserve compassion - especially from yourself. A note about children Often, children know far more than we think they do and they become very skilled at a young age at suppressing some of their feelings. Believe me when I say that children, even infants, can feel loss and can grieve. But, many children have been given the message that it is not acceptable to show sadness, cry or verbalize their feelings around loss. So, when they wonder who will put the star on the Christmas tree this year now that mommy is gone or who will carve the turkey now that grandpa is gone, they might keep those questions to themselves. Just as many adults don't want to bring up a sad topic to their friend and make them cry, so too do children want to avoid being the one that makes their parents cry. So, check in with your children if they have also lost someone and encourage them to follow these same tips. How to help a grieving friend during the holiday season 1. Be there There are few things in life that can make you feel as powerless as watching someone you love have their heart broken. For many of us, we can only take so much time in that uncomfortable place before we need find something to distract ourselves. Rather than running away from the pain, try to lean in to that discomfort and be there for your friend. Acknowledge to them that you understand the holidays may be difficult for them. Remind them that you care about them and will be there for them. There are no magic words you can say to make things better. Just being there with them physically is sometimes magial enough. 2. Ask questions Ask your friend what they need. Rather than saying "let me know if you need anything" or "I'm here if you need me," be brave and ask things like "What will be the hardest part of Thanksgiving for you?" or "What do you need to help you get through the season?" Encourage your friend to be honest with you about their needs. 3. Talk about their loved one You did a double take when you read this one, right? For many of us, we have been conditioned to avoid talking about someone who has died. We don't want to upset our friends and remind them of their loss. We don't want to make their pain worse. Guess what? They probably are always thinking about their loved one. Their heart is always hurting. One of their biggest fears, especially if they are a parent who has lost a child, is that the world (and they, themselves) will forget their loved one. Say their name. If you knew them, talk about your memories of them. Talking about them will give your friend permission to also talk about them and doing so will help immensely with their grief process. 4. Include them Even though your friend may not feel much like socializing at times, continue to extend invitations. Don't assume that just because they have declined your last four invitiations means they will never be interested in hanging out with you again. That 5th invitiation just may be the one that finally gets them out of their house. 5. Don't take it personal When your friend turns down your invitiation to your Christmas party or backs out of your girls' night out at the last minute or doesn't return your text message right away, don't take it personal. Remember that the holidays aren't always the joyous, wonderful time that Hallmark makes them out to be. For some people, they are a sad reminder of those who are no longer with us. ***For a listing of local seminars on Surviving the Holidays, visit http://www.griefshare.org/holidays seminar Be sure to check out our shop for some helpful health and wellness items. For more blog articles on grief, click the links below:
Before I became a parent, I had some basic parenting expectations for myself. For example, I was quite positive that my children:
Once I became a parent, however, that list quickly got tossed into the garbage. Parenting, it turns out, is something that you can never fully prepare for or predict. I am often making things up as I go along, course correcting and adjusting as I evaluate how I am handling the monumental task of parenting. Most days I feel like a total failure but sometimes, every once in a while, everything falls into place and often, when it does, it's because I listened to that little feeling in my gut - my intuition. Two nights ago, after a weekend full of sports game, field clean up, work, errands and kitchen painting, my 8 year old laid in his bed and sobbed in my arms about how all he wants is "one day to just do nothing." He was tired of school, tired of sports, tired of running errands, tired of having to clean his room. He was tired. His gas tank was empty. I talk about this concept a lot with my patients - the notion that we are like cars (crude comparison, I know) and if we don't take care of our cars and fill them with fuel, eventually they will sputter and leave us stranded on the side of the road. My little guy was very quickly running out of fuel and was close to breaking down on the side of the road. With my patients, we brainstorm ways to refuel ourselves. For some of us, it's exercise, for others it's time with friends, for others it's time alone. For my insightful 8 year old, he had identified that what would refuel him was a day to just be a kid. My initial reaction was to validate his feelings and commit to finding a time to take a day off together but as we talked, I felt that feeling. You know the one: that intuitive, instinctive feeling in our bellies or our chests that is left over from evolution. Usually it tells us what we need to know in critical moments - like when we are in danger. But, if we listen, it can also help guide us in our decision making process and let us know which decision is the "right" one. My gut was telling me that I needed to make time now. I tucked him in to bed and then set to work rearranging my schedule so I could be home the next day. When he woke in the morning, I invited him to stay home with me and have his day off. He smiled bigger than I had seen in a few weeks, hugged me and ran into the living room. I also invited his older brother, who had been fighting off a virus, to stay home as well. It took him a good 30 minutes to make his decision but he also ultimately decided that he could use a day off too. You read that right. I let my children miss school and neither of them were physically sick. But, I would argue, both of them were mentally and emotionally running out of fuel and needed some time off. After all, mental health and emotional health are just as important as physical health. In fact, they could be MORE important than physical health as it has often been suggested that when we are emotionally and mentally run down, we are more susceptible to illness. The rules of the day off were quite simple - there were no rules. Also, there had to be fresh baked banana bread (per my 8 year's old request.) We stayed in our pajamas and sweat pants for the day, ate fresh banana bread and just "were." The boys played games, watched tv, played video games, drew, colored and played outside. It was like a snow day, the blizzard kind, where the roads get closed down and everything pauses. Except there was no snow and no need to shovel. As dinner time rolled around, I found myself reflecting a lot on the day. My boys were smiling and their fuel tanks were refilled. I also noticed that my fuel tank was much more full. Hearing my children just be children and do the work of children - play - was a beautiful thing. If we, as adults, can take a breath and really evaluate our lives, we probably will find that we could benefit from more snow days, minus the snow, in our lives. No matter how busy our lives are, I strongly believe we all can find a way to fit some snow days into our schedule. Sometimes the laundry, dishes, phone calls, bills, errands and work can wait. Sometimes it is ok to ask others for help. None of my hospice patients have ever looked at me while approaching their final days on Earth and admitted that they wished they had worked more, kept a cleaner house or spent less time with their loved ones. No. It's the opposite. Almost everyone I have been with at the end of their lives shares the same sentiments - it's the small things that matter in the end - time with children doing nothing, time with friends over coffee, tea or wine, lazy mornings with their partner. It turns out that often the things that refuel us are also the things that we treasure and need the most. So, my challenge to all of you is to tune everything out for 5 minutes. Really. Do it. Let the dishes pile up. Leave the stack of bills on the counter. Leave the laundry in the baskets. Let those calls you need to return wait a few moments. Look around at your life. What is truly most important? What fills your tank? How can you make room in your schedule this week to fit in some of these activities? I suspect that for many of you, you are running on fumes now. You are flying down the highway at 90 miles an hour, seeing your gas needle nearing closer and closer to "E." Yet, you are ignoring it, hoping that you can run on fumes, "just" a bit longer. Pull over now and fill that tank. Stop putting you and your own needs last. Make your own snow day!
"It's not fair."
These words have become fairly commonplace in my home lately. Sometimes the words frustrate me. Sometimes the words anger me. Sometimes the words resonate quite deeply with me. Mostly though, the words break my heart, leave me feeling helpless and call every aspect of my parenting skills into question. Here's the thing. I am the oldest of two children. My husband is the oldest of four children. We are your stereotypical older children. We are reliable and conscientious perfectionists who don't like surprises. We have a strong need for approval from others, especially individuals in charge. It's not surprising to us that our oldest son freaks out when he scores less than a 100% on a math test or shares that one of his biggest fears is being sent to the principal's office. He is following in our footsteps and proving that birth order stereotypes are alive and well in my house! But while our similarities as first-born children allow my husband and I to often completely understand the view point of our oldest child, on the flip side it means that we often do not understand our youngest child and sometimes have no idea how to parent him. We have no idea what it's like to be the youngest. We are blindly trying to navigate the maze of parenting a youngest child without any road map, without any experience at being the youngest. There are countless moments each week where we feel like terrible parents, worried that we are completely ruining our youngest. When I look at my youngest child, I feel a deep sense of pride. He is charming, creative and has a skilled way of getting what he wants and needs. He has so many traits that I envy. Yet, I also often feel a deep pang of guilt when I look at him. This little guy spent a large chunk of his life being carted around to all of his older brother's activities - baseball games, basketball games, football games, play dates, birthday parties, etc. Many of our closest family friends come from friendships that were forged at those very same events and activities - meaning that my oldest child always has plenty of kids to play with when all the families get together. But, my youngest is often the baby - the annoying younger brother who isn't quite fast enough, strong enough, skilled enough to keep up all the way. So, while he has become quite adept at entertaining himself, he often feels like he is on the fringe and doesn't quite fit in. "It's not fair!" he whines when his brother gets to go on sleepovers, or makes an all-star team or plays more games each week in sports, or gets a new cell phone. At only 7 years old, my youngest child can't handle the abstract task of comparing himself to the 7 year old version of his older brother. When I tried to suggest this tactic recently my younger son said "But, mom!! I didn't know him then! I don't remember him when he was 7. It's not fair!" You know what, when he's says "It's not fair," he is usually 100% correct. It's not fair. Life isn't fair. I hope that I am able to provide both of my children with the skills they need to navigate an unfair world as adults. But, in the meantime, how can I honor his feelings and help him to be more than just the younger brother? How can I prevent the dimming of his bright dimply smile and the decreased frequency of his wise-cracking jokes? I started this blog article about a month ago but then walked away from it before it was finished. I was frustrated and lost. So, I did what I always do when I feel frustrated and lost. I read a lot of articles, discussed with friends and mulled everything over in my brain. (I also over indulged in Starbucks dark chocolate covered almonds.) With the old Sesame Street song "One of These Things Is Not Like the Other" playing in my head, I came to realize that I need to stop trying to fit my youngest child into the same mold that the rest of us in the family fit in so comfortably. Rather than trying to change him to be more like us, I needed to embrace his uniqueness: fully, honestly and wholeheartedly accentuate and accept what makes him so distinctly him. Over the past few weeks we have been trying to mindfully focus on his need for individualized attention. His bedtime, after school and morning routines are all now slightly different than his older brother's. We try to give him the ability to make more decisions on his own and even though this often means he goes to school in a completely mismatched outfit, it makes him feel like he has a voice. Moreover, it makes him feel like his voice is valued. We have even let him test out riding in the backseat without a booster seat, even if it is two weeks too early. We've created special time just for him at night where my husband reads the Harry Potter series to him and only him. We've also tried to focus more on HIS friendships and helping him to foster those connections. I think it's working. Most nights in the past week he has gone to bed cheerful, smiling and thanking us for being "awesome parents." His dimply smile has become far more commonplace in our house, edging out the cries of "It's not fair." We feel like we have our baby back. So, I'll take it as a small victory. For now. However, if you find me eating dark chocolate covered almonds while hunched over my laptop in a corner of a Starbucks near you, you'll know that I am probably in the midst of my next parenting crisis. Football has been on my mind a lot lately. Perhaps it's because I just binge-watched Last Chance U. Or, perhaps it's because I am currently working my way through Friday Night Tykes. Maybe it's because my family spends most of our afternoons on the football field. It could be because my husband has now become a head coach for the youngest youth football team in our town. It could even be because I have joined my first Fantasy Football league (and I'm winning!). Whatever the reason, Kenny Chesney's "Boys of Fall" is the soundtrack to my life these days.
When I was in high school, sitting in the football stadium stands playing "Carry On My Wayward Son" on my trombone with the rest of the high school marching band (I was SUPER cool), I remember thinking that football was violent and never ever pictured myself being a football parent. In fact, when my oldest son was 6 years old and started asking about playing football, my initial and frequent response was "absolutely not!!" I recall thinking that it was too rough, too unnecessary and far too much of a commitment from me and for him. I was a solid "no." But, he was determined to play and one year later, after I had done lots of research and talked to some of the local youth football coaches, I decided to let him try it. After all, in that year since I had said no to football, I had witnessed some pretty serious injuries in his little league baseball division. I convinced myself that on some level football might be safer since my child would be fully padded and always in a helmet with a face shield. Plus, I am also firmly against children specializing in just one sport at this young age and much of the research backs my stance. I sat, in horror, through those first few weeks of football practice as children ran laps and worked out, sometimes until they puked because they had eaten too close to practice, often through tears and while coaches yelled at them. "What the hell did I sign my son up for?" My son asked me if he could quit football after just two weeks. While a big part of me wanted to take his little hand and march him back to my car, leaving his stinky football equipment on the field, a voice inside me told me that I couldn't let him quit. He needed to stick it out and see what a game was like before he walked away. I didn't want him to have any regrets and I was convinced that he would be completely done with football after one game. So, he continued on and was one of the children selected to dress (but probably not play) for the first varsity game - a home game. That first game day was almost magical. The sun was bright and hot, a perfect New England September day. The music pumped throughout the stadium and my son got to hear his name announced over the loud speaker at his high school's football stadium as he ran through streamers held by cheerleaders. Although I cannot recall for sure, I am fairly certain that I cried. After all, I cry a lot - especially when I am proud of my children. I was proud of him and his teammates. They had made a commitment to each other and to themselves. Even though he didn't play much that game, he was hooked and he never ever asked to quit football again. That season, our family's inaugural football season, was perfect. My son, my quiet, insecure and timid son was changing before my eyes. He was becoming more confident, more assertive and more hopeful. I suddenly understood what sculptors like Michelangelo must have felt as they began to see their works of art being carved from blocks of marble. My son was being chiseled into an amazing version of himself, a version I had always known was inside and I had football to thank for the transformation. Our second season of football was a bit different and after two games my son cried again - not because he didn't like the game but because he felt "invisible" "not good enough." We talked about it as a family and he decided that the best thing to do would be to talk to the coach and find out how he could get better, how he could get more playing time. I watched him have that brief but terrifying conversation and I teared up again (see? I cry. A lot). I knew many adults, including myself, who were too afraid to approach an authority figure and ask for such feedback. But, he did it and things began to change. He ended the season a starting varsity player and truly became him that season. I saw football's lasting impact on his school work, his friendships and in his other sports. So, when our youngest son became old enough to sign up for football, I didn't hesitate. He knew what he was signing up for - he had just watched his brother play two full seasons. Of course, the transition into the practices and conditioning was difficult for him but he never asked to quit. Just three plays into his very first football game, he scored a touchdown on a quarterback sneak play. I suspect that moment will be one of the moments that sticks in the photo album of his childhood in his mind - one of those moments he'll tell his own children about someday. He beamed coming off the field and couldn't wait to talk to his big brother about it. It should come as no surprise that I cried then too :) But, in the back of my mind, I hear a voice of doubt. "What if they get hurt?" "What about a concussion?" "Is it too much for them at such a young age?" Then I watch shows like Last Chance U and Friday Night Tykes and have moments of disgust as I watch those coaches swearing at and belittling other football players. Is this what my children have to look forward to? Each season I watch as new children join our football teams and I see the same sheer panic overcome their parents' faces as their child takes their first tackle or stays on the ground longer than the other children and they feel the "Oh my God! He's hurt?!" feeling that sends a parent's heart into the pit of your stomach. If I'm being honest, I have that same level of panic every time I watch my boys ride off on their bikes or walk along a busy street or rough house on a playground or do almost any of the crazy things boys their age do. I have that same fear when I drop them off at school and have to push back the worry that something bad could happen there too. I feel the same dread when we are in a large public gathering. What if?? But, then I arrive at game day and Kenny's words ring in my head and I remember that I cannot let fear dictate or direct my life. When people ask me "Why football?" my reply is always the same. I cannot wrap my children in a bubble (even though I really wish Amazon Prime would sell one). My children love the game of football. They love creating these memories with their friends. They beam with pride when their lap pace increases, they score a touchdown, have a great block on the line or make a key tackle. Football has helped my children gain confidence and identify their limits in ways other sports have not. It has helped them build character and forge lifelong friendships. It has created change in them that could not have been done with just my parenting alone. It unifies my family in the fall and allows us a shared experience. More importantly though, football is just one piece of our life. In addition to being football players, my boys are baseball players, musicians, basketball players, compassionate friends, academically bright, insightful, creative, funny and great with animals. At this point in my children's lives, the positive benefits of youth football outweigh the risk of negatives. They even outweigh the nasty, smelly football pads that stink up my car after practices and games. And no matter what time of year it is or how far my boys go with football, on some level they will always be Boys of Fall and I will always be a Mom of Fall.
I have a challenge for you.
Quickly list the last 10 mistakes you made. Did you forget a meeting? Leave an important document at home? Swap your children's lunches, homework folders or school supplies? Say something hurtful? Eat something you shouldn't have? Texted at a red light? Participated in road rage? Parented in a way that you didn't like? Now, quickly list your 10 biggest flaws. Are you too heavy? Too selfish? Too materialistic? Not forgiving enough? Too judgemental? Too unhealthy? Too lazy? Too tired? Not organized enough? Too forgetful? If you are anything like me, listing your mistakes and flaws is pretty easy. They probably are part of the negative self talk narrative that kicks around inside your brain pretty regularly. They are the thoughts that creep into your head at night when the house is finally quiet and you relive the moments from the day, super critical of all the things that you did wrong. Now, list the last 10 great things you did. Then, list your 10 greatest attributes. Were these second lists harder for you? I know they are for me. Not only does it take me longer to find the positives about myself and my actions, it also makes me feel uncomfortable to share them. A few months ago, while scrolling through my social media feed I came across a clip of Kristen Bell talking about how she balances motherhood and working. In essence, she said that she tries her best and doesn't beat herself up when she isn't perfect. Even though I closed the clip and continued on to read about the best brownie recipes, looked at the best slow cooker meals and caught up on my friends' social media lives, Kristen Bell's voice stayed there in my brain. (Honestly, ever since Frozen, when has her voice or the voice of Idina Menzel not been in any parent's brain?). Don't beat yourself up. I guess on some level I kept telling poor Kristen Bell to shut up. Let me beat myself up, Kristen Bell. I need to be better, do better. I can't mess up. I need to be perfect. However, today I was struck by how profoundly ironic my life can be at times. Just before seeing my first psychotherapy patient for the day, I realized that I had completely forgotten about an important professional meeting. It was a meeting that I had sought out and scheduled myself; a meeting very crucial to some of my own professional goals. I scheduled the meeting, confirmed the meeting and plopped it into my color-coded electronic calendar. I had already selected my outfit for the day, prepped my materials and put together some speaking points. But, somehow, between the hustle and bustle of back to school for my children (you know, things like school supply shopping, emergency contact form completion, book fair order forms, field trip permission forms, classroom volunteer background check forms and helping the children and our family get used to new routines and new personalities), football practices, football games (our family participated in 5 football games in just 24 hours last weekend), an out of state business trip, multiple family birthday parties, preparing a 40 page manuscript on anticipatory grief and working, I somehow thought the meeting was on Friday, not Wednesday. And so, I never showed up to this very important meeting. Shame. Guilt. Embarrassment. Anger. I felt all of these emotions at once as soon as I realized my mistake. Then came the barrage of negative thoughts about myself. But, like any good professional, I buttoned up my feelings, put them in a nice little box and went on with my sessions (of course, after reaching out to the other meeting attendees, apologizing and rescheduling). Like I always do, I approached my patients from a strengths-based perspective, helping then to identify and re-frame their own instances of negative self talk, saying things like, "Did you hear that? Did you hear what you just said about yourself?" or "Tell me about a time when you successfully handled a similar issue." Later on, while working on some paperwork, the irony hit me. I spend so much time all week encouraging people to be like Kristen Bell - do your best and don't beat yourself up. Yet, I spend even more time each week beating myself up for not being perfect. I need to Let It Go. I need to stop beating myself up. I need to stop trying to be a perfect version of myself. I need to stop the negative self talk loop that often plays in my brain. I need to listen to Kristen Bell! But, I suspect that I am not alone. When I look at the other women in my life; stay at home mothers and mothers who work out of the home; single mothers and married mothers; first time mothers and mothers with multiple children; young mothers and less young (but not old) mothers, I see many of us in the same plight. We strive for perfection, get caught up in comparing ourselves to others, set completely unrealistic expectations for ourselves and then when we are anything less than perfect, we beat ourselves up - relentlessly. We need to let all of that go. It's going to be difficult but here is what I suggest we do as we move forward: Say No Chances are your To-Do list is a mile long and you've over-extended, over-promised and over-committed yourself. Practice saying No. Someone once told me that "no" is a complete sentence. It is perfectly fine to sometimes say No. That's it. Explanations, excuses, alternatives are not always necessary. Stop trying to please everyone. Set Realistic Goals Re-evaluate your goals. What is a more realistic version of your goal? Set yourself up for success. Rather than setting a goal to clean out every closet in your house this weekend, would it be ok to set a goal to clean out only one? Would the world really implode? Identify the Good Practice identifying the things you do that are good; the ways in which you are already enough. Stop giving so much power to the negative stuff. If you need to stand in front of your mirror and tell yourself that you are enough, do it. If you need to write lists of your positive qualities, do it. If you need to write yourself love notes in dry erase markers on your mirrors, do it. Why not? You probably are perfectly fine doing just the opposite and reminding yourself of all you do wrong. Take Care of You Figure out what refuels you and schedule some time to do it. Maybe it's a walk in the park. Maybe it's lunch with a friend. Maybe it's sitting at home alone and choosing to leave the laundry for a bit while you drink a cup of tea and read a book. Do it, and don't allow guilt to enter your brain. Help Each Other Part of my self-loathing this morning involved texting my husband and a few friends to let them know how terrible I am. One dear friend reminded me that I am human. She's right. No one is perfect. All of us are human and all of us have flaws. It's ok. I need to stop trying to be perfect and we need to remind the women around us that it's ok for them to not be perfect either. For the next few weeks, I'm going to take Kristen Bell's advice and try to not beat myself up so much. Wouldn't it be great to let go of at least some of the insane pressure we put on ourselves as mothers? What if, for the first time in forever, we focused on our own strengths and not our own flaws? I have always been an animal person. If I am being honest, I am just a few pets away from being the stereotypical crazy cat lady of the neighborhood. In fact, there is a high likelihood that the 90 year old version of myself will live in a house with at least a dozen stray cats and five rescue dogs. Animals find me everywhere (ok, maybe I find them). During my high school years, I somehow adopted more than one neighborhood feral cat. I once left a beach party in the Dominican Republic to hang out with the local beach dog. A feral kitten climbed into the wheel well of my tire 8 years ago and she still lives with us. I went to the pet store for cat food one day and witnessed a pair of juvenile cats get separated as one was purchased; so, I adopted the other one. I now have three dogs - all rescues and all a bit quirky. Why do I have so many pets? It's simple, really. They bring me and my family lots of joy. They teach us invaluable life lessons; things like love, patience, responsibility and care giving. But, they also teach us about something else - grief and loss. When our senior dog, Sandy, made it clear to us that her time was coming to an end, we had a long conversation with our two boys, ages 5 and 8 at the time. The plan was that our veterinarian would come to our house and euthanize Sandy in front of the fireplace, her favorite spot. We asked our boys if they wanted to be there and arranged for child care in case they didn't. Surprisingly, they both wanted to stay and be a part of it; and so they were. After spending the afternoon loving Sandy, giving her all her favorite things and carrying her to her favorite places in our home, the four of us sat on the living room floor, in front of the fireplace, in a circle around Sandy while the vet and his vet tech helped us to say goodbye. She died in our arms and it was the most beautiful, amazing and heart breaking thing we have ever experienced as a family. Saying goodbye to Sandy after 12 years was nearly impossible; but watching our children say goodbye to a pet they had known their whole lives crushed us. Death is death. Loss is loss. Grief is grief. For many people, losing a pet is exactly the same as losing a human and for children, the loss of a pet is often their first experience with death. It was for my boys. It was their first family member to die and I so badly wanted to shield them from the grief but I knew that I just couldn't. Death is as much a part of life as birth and one of my jobs as a parent is to help my children understand and process all the things that surround death. Having worked in the bereavement field for many years and having experienced pet loss twice as a parent, once as a sudden loss and once as a planned loss, I have developed some important insights into how best to handle pet loss with children. 1. Remember that every child is unique. A family friend recently lost their dog and I asked my two children for some advice for their friends. One child said "Talk about him. A lot. It helped me to remember stories and look at pictures." The other said, "Think about happy things - vacations, movies, stuff like that. Don't think about the dog. I didn't like when I thought about her." Their approaches could not be more different and both approaches are ok. Remember that no two children are the same. Siblings will likely grieve very differently. It is normal. How one child handled one pet loss may be different than how they handle another pet loss later in life. Remember that there is no cookie-cutter approach to handling loss with children. Let their individuality guide you and resist the urge to compare. 2. Be honest If you know a pet's health is failing, be honest with your children. Children are smarter than we often give them credit for and they probably have already noticed the same signs you are noticing as your pet's health fails. There is a tendency, especially with smaller pets like fish, birds and hamsters, to lie to children and quietly replace the dead pet with a new pet. I always advise against taking this approach. For starters, your children will, at some point, find out that you lied to them, and while we lie about things like the Tooth Fairy and Santa Clause, lying about death is a different type of lie and can cause confusion in children later in life. Death and grief are painful but your children will encounter them in their lives. Help them face death, grief and loss head on. Look at it as an opportunity for growth rather than an impossible challenge. 3. Invite them to be part of the process If euthanasia is being considered, let children know, in developmentally appropriate terms, what is happening in the pet's body and what the plans are for saying goodbye. Let your children know they can ask you and the vet questions (check with your vet ahead of time). Invite them to be part of the process and explain what their involvement could look like. Let them know they can back out of the process at any time and have an escape plan ready for them. While having them be part of the process may be scary for us as parents, it can actually provide children with the concrete information they need to more effectively handle the loss. It also sends them a message that they are important and their input is valued. 4. Have grief books available for them. There are countless books available for children of all developmental stages about pet loss. Purchase books, borrow some from a friend or take home a few from your local library. Leave the books in a designated spot in your home and let your children know you are always available to read the books with them or they can take one and read it on their own. This approach gives children control and power but also sends the message that you are there to support them. Take some time to read the books first to make sure they will be appropriate for your children. A list of books can be found here. 5. Don't be quick to put everything away We had to put Sandy's dog bed away immediately. It was too painful for all of us to look at. But, we kept her collar out. In fact, it's still out. Her ashes and collar sit on our mantle, a reminder that she was real, our love for her was big and that she was an important part of our family. We found a way to keep memories of her around without breaking our heart into a million pieces. It might be helpful for your children to leave at least a few things out to remind them of your pet. Talk with your children and get their input. 6. Consider some sort of memorial service This tip may sound a bit hokey and cheesy. This service is not for your pet, but for your children. Formal services help us to acknowledge and share our grief. Children often need this time to openly and formally express and share their own grief and also observe the grief of others. Children can draw pictures, write out cards, put together a memory board or picture book and say a few words. Invite them to participate but let them know it is not necessary. Let them sort of drive the bus. One child may want to participate while another may not want to be involved. Both approaches are acceptable. 7. Have some quiet family time There is a tendency to distract and keep everyone busy following a pet loss. While this is a good approach to a point, it may send the message that grieving about your pet is not normal and not allowed. It might send the message that grieving is abnormal and shameful. Some quiet time as a family should be scheduled to allow for some natural grief reactions to occur - things like movies at home, board games, quiet time for reading, etc may be quite healing for everyone. Sometimes, especially when we have active children, our lives move 100 miles an hour and time for things like grieving just slips away. Create some space and time for your children to feel and express their emotions. Bedtime also seems to be a good time for families to share some quiet moments together. 8. Remember that "mad" and "sad" do not equal "bad" Anger and sadness are two of the most common emotions felt by children following a loss. For many children, these feelings are complex, confusing and overwhelming. As children are concrete thinkers and death is such an abstract concept, expressing their feelings with words can often be a challenge. Thus, it is common for some children to express their grief through actions and sometimes these actions can be labeled as "bad" behaviors. You may see increased acting out behaviors like siblings fighting and bickering more, teasing, negative attitudes and grumpiness. You may also see regressive behaviors such as bed wetting, thumb sucking, asking for help with things like tying shoes - things they were able to do for themselves previously. These reactions are often normal and are temporary. As children have opportunities to express and process their feelings, their behaviors will often return to normal. 9. Communicate with other adults Depending on your child's age, they may have other important adults in their lives. Send a quick email to those important people (i.e. their teachers and their coaches) to let them know that your child just experienced a pet loss - not as an excuse for behaviors but as a heads up for the child seeming off and also as an extra set of eyes. Let your children know that you are doing so. When Sandy died, my boys were in 2nd grade and preschool. Both boys' teachers were great and pulled the boys aside privately to express their condolences and gave them an opportunity to talk about it with classmates. One did. The other didn't. The younger one did draw about it later on - sometimes during school, sometimes at home. The teacher appreciated knowing about the loss as it helped guide her discussions with him about his drawings and writings. 10. Be real The trickiest part of all of this is that you, as a parent, are also grieving. Contrary to what many people think, it's ok to let your children see you cry. You do not need to "be strong." Rather, be real and let go of some of the pressure you put on yourself. When Sandy's remains were ready to be picked up, we were not prepared for how intense our emotional reactions would be. When we got everything home and took the urn out of the bag, I broke. Sobbed. Then, we all did. You know what? We were ok. We supported each other and my children were not scarred by seeing me cry. Rather, they had the opportunity to see me safely express my raw feelings and saw me put myself back together. Give your children a good model for grief. For most people, many of the suggestions provided feel strange and uncomfortable. I get it. It is quite likely that my suggestions are completely opposite of what your gut may be telling you to do. So many of us have been conditioned to not openly grieve, to not talk about our feelings. Think about how we, as a society, view death and grief. We avoid them, at all costs. We provide 3 days off for bereavement and then send the message to those that have lost someone that they should hurry up and move on, get over it, find closure. I firmly believe these messages are wrong. There is no such thing as closure. We never heal after a loss. There is still a hole in our heart and sometimes something triggers us, sending us right back into the dark depths of grief. That is normal grief. As parents, we can choose to send our children a different message about grief than the message that many of us were given. We can teach them that feeling pain and grief after a loss is normal, acceptable and healthy. We can provide opportunities for our children to express their feelings and can reassure them that grief, although at times messy, uncomfortable and frightening, is normal. CLICK HERE to listen to The Changing Perspectives Podcast Episode; Dealing with Pet Loss. Resources The Association for Pet Loss and Bereavement The Pet Loss Support Page
It's that time of year again! The sun is setting a little earlier each day and the night air is beginning to cool. Sleeping with the windows open is becoming much more pleasant. Television series are returning to our screens. Football teams are gearing up for the season. Pumpkin flavored beer, muffins and coffee are returning to menus and shelves. But, perhaps most importantly (or at least tied with the pumpkin flavored things and football), schools are back in session. During this time of year, parents everywhere are exchanging looks equal parts relieved and overwhelmed.
Last week my family and I dashed to the bus stop, the very last ones in the neighborhood to arrive to the corner for the first day of school. Despite laying out outfits the night before, having all required paperwork signed and packed neatly in backpacks, lunches prepped, schedules reviewed and everything in order, the last 15 minutes before we left for the bus stop turned into a panicked frenzy, the likes of which are often captured in sitcoms. Tied shoes suddenly became untied. Water bottles began leaking. Dogs refused to come inside. Keys were nowhere to be found. It was chaos and madness. We rushed out of our house, 5 minutes late, quickly snapped our obligatory first day of school photos in front of our house and then headed down the street in two cars so that my husband and I could scurry to work as soon as the bus left. I'm fairly certain a cartoon-like cloud of dust surrounded us as the four of us pretty much fell out of the car and crossed the street to the bus stop, me with my lint brush in tow as I had, of course, forgotten, about the dog hair all over my black pants. In case there was any doubt, our family is a disaster in the morning and the first day of school was no exception. As the neighborhood kids lined up for the annual bus stop photo, I was slapped in the face by reality. My oldest was THE oldest at the bus stop. He wasn't just the oldest by age or grade, he towered above the other kids and looked completely out of place. He looked like he already belonged in middle school and was lined up at the wrong bus stop. It was in that moment, as I looked around, that I realized my neighborhood bus stop has become a microcosm of childhood. It is as if every single phase of childhood is now reflected in our bus stop. Factoring in siblings, our bus stop ranges from newborn to toddler to preschooler to kindergarten and then all the way through 5th grade. It's like looking at my family's life in slow motion. There is the newborn baby who everyone hovers over and asks the same questions about; the toddler playing in dirt and eager to dart into the traffic; the preschooler with a million questions and comments about the world; the pre-kindergartner who desperately wants to be getting on that bus this year; the kindergartner dressed in his very best khaki shorts and polo shirt who is about to the ride the "big bus" for the very first time; the first grader who feels so much more confident this year than last year and can't believe they cried their first day a year ago; the second grader who boards the bus with secure confidence - they've got this; the third grader who is now just about half way through their elementary school experience and is feeling great; the fourth grader who gets to sit near the back of the bus and now begs to wear Under Armour shirts and basketball shorts on the first day of school; and the fifth grader who is beginning to feel out of place and ready to move on. They are all there - every single stage of childhood. But, the bus stop isn't just a snapshot of each stage of childhood, it's also a cross section of parenthood. There is the single parent managing it all on their own; the work from home parent who can only be away from her computer for so long before her boss gets mad; the parents who work opposing schedules and are handing off child care responsibilities in the morning; the stay at home parents who are somewhat grateful for one less child to entertain that day and the new-to-the-neighborhood parents who don't know anyone. They are all there too! If I were to hit "pause" in that moment, I could see myself, my husband and our children reflected in almost every family and every child. We've been there. We remember the sleepless nights, the non-stop chasing of the toddlers, the expert way a 3 year old can make their body go limp when a parent tries to pick them up, the blood curdling screams that a 4 year old can make during a tantrum, the nervous fear of a shy 5 year old getting on the bus for the first time, the battles over independence that happen when children begin choosing their own outfits for school. We've lived those moments. Looking back on each of those stages, I remember feeling as though those moments, those really hard moments, lasted forever. They dragged by slowly. Yet, standing at that bus stop last week, I remembered that someone recently told me "the days go by so slowly but the years go by too fast." Yes! In each of those challenging moments, the moments where our inner dialogue sounded something like "I suck at this" or "I'm the worst parent" or "I can't do this anymore" or "What am I doing wrong?" time felt like it was moving too slowly. Yet, there I stood, with my 5th and 2nd graders, thinking that all of those years had flown by too fast. Where did the time go? As I drove to work just a few minutes later, I reflected on our morning - from the chaos of getting out of the house to the few minutes at the bus stop with everyone else. Perhaps on some level my family wasn't ready to officially say goodbye to what had been one of our best summers. Perhaps we were nervous about what this school year would bring. Perhaps I wasn't the only one who had come to realize that this morning would be our last "first day" all together at a bus stop. Next year my oldest will be off to middle school and my boys won't ride the bus together again until my oldest's final year of high school - 7 years from now. Maybe we were trying to force time to slow down a little bit. Maybe we all were feeling a bit like the years are moving by too fast. In just a few days fall sports officially kick off, homework assignments will start to be sent home in my children's folders, my teaching semester begins, and the leaves will prepare to change from green to the colors of fall. In the blink of an eye, winter will be upon us and 2016 will soon be behind us. Before we know it, we'll all be standing back at the very same bus stop, this time on the last day of school and, once again, it will sink in that the years are moving too fast. While I haven't figured out how to make time slow down or how to really live in the moment, I know I need to try to focus more on the here and now. I need to appreciate the small stuff. I want to find a way to enjoy the chaos of our morning routine and pause for just a beat each day before my kids transition into their school day to be thankful for these moments. Even when the moments are crazy, test every ounce of my patience and make me feel unhinged, they are still my moments and these crazy moments that fill so many of our days as parents will soon be gone. One morning we will wake up and no longer need to go to that bus stop at the corner. One day, sooner than we think, the bus stop will no longer be our bus stop. "Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life." - Omar Khayyam
The other day someone asked me if I had ever tried paddle boarding. I laughed to myself as I pictured what it would be like to try to stand my uncoordinated, clumsy self upright on a board while floating on the ocean with only my balance and a paddle to prevent me from being tossed into the water by a large wave. No, I have never tried paddle boarding. But, as I woke the next morning and quickly ran through the ever growing to-do list in my mind, I started to wonder if maybe I have been paddle boarding but just didn't realize it.
Perhaps the act of trying to balance parenting, wifeing (let's pretend it's a real word), friending (another real word), working, homeowning and all the other responsibilities that come with adulting, is a bit like balancing on a paddle board. As I carried the image of myself paddle boarding through my day, I became more convinced that paddle boarding is the perfect metaphor for how I approach my life. Some days I can barely even stand up on my paddle board, no matter how calm or still the water is that day and no matter how strong my paddle is at the time. Sometimes there is just too much weight on my shoulders and all I can do is plunk myself down on my board, legs criss-crossed-applesauce and sit there. On those days, days when my 7 year old throws himself to the floor in a full-fledged tantrum because it is time to put his shoes on or days when I get into the car already late for work and realize that my low-tire pressure light is on, all I can do is float and let the waves and ocean guide me. I just hold onto the board for dear life, hoping that tomorrow will be a better day or that I might bump into a fellow paddle boarder along the way who can help me stand up. Some days I find the strength to stand with ease and I am suddenly an expert paddle boarder. On those days I glide over the ocean's surface, making dinner, folding laundry, paying bills and shuttling my children to and from events on time like a pro. This paddle boarding thing sure feels like second nature on those days. Sometimes I even find myself sitting comfortably on the board, legs dangling playfully over the edge without a care. My children are happy and polite, my work responsibilities are up to date, my house is clean and my financial stress is low. These are the days when I wish I could freeze time and soak up all the laughter, love, light and pure joy I see around me. But then, inevitably, the water changes, as it always does, without warning. Flat tires. Sick children. Work emergencies. Sick pets. Health concerns. Broken washing machines. Suddenly I am sea sick and just want to angrily cast aside my stupid paddle and board and give up. It's too much. It's too hard. I'm not built for paddle boarding. What was I thinking? Why is everyone else out there balancing so beautifully on their boards today? What is wrong with me? Always eager to learn more, I decided to conduct a brief bit of research on paddle boarding to see if this metaphor could really hold water (pun intended). In my research, I stumbled upon a very informative website for beginning paddle boarders. Here, Green Water Sports provides new paddle boarders with 10 tips to help them become successful at their new craft. After reviewing these tips in detail, it turns out that they could easily be applied to many of life's overwhelming aspects of adulting. Below I have included all 10 tips and their applicability to the ever challenging task of parenting or, as I may refer to it from now on, paddle board parenting: 1. Use a leash No, not the literal leash. Although I have certainly met some children who, in some settings, could benefit from being on a physical leash, I am not referring to that kind of leash. I'm talking more along the lines of the type of leash that is a safety leash - just to make sure you don't lose your board when a wave tosses you into the water or you lose your balance. Who and what are your lifelines that you can turn to when you get knocked off your paddle board? Who can you tether yourself to for safety? Who do you want to make sure you don't lose along the way? 2. Make sure your paddle is the right way While there is no wrong way to eat a Reese's, it seems that there is a wrong way to use your paddle. Sometimes our guts steer us the right way as we paddle board our way through parenting but sometimes our instincts are just wrong and if we truly reflect on it, we are using our paddle incorrectly. Sometimes we could benefit from checking with someone else to be sure that our paddle is the right way. It is ok to ask for advice and help. Who will let you know if your paddle is not the right way? Who can you turn to when you need to double check your paddle? 3. Face the right way Initially this tip seemed rather silly and simple but as I reflected on how it could be applied to parenting, I realized that as parents it is sometimes easy to face the wrong way. We all have had moments where we look backwards, focused on the mistakes we've made behind us, or we look forward but only at the scary possibilities. Sometimes we need a reminder as parents to face the right way, face forward towards hope and the future, face towards the here and now, leave the past in the past. What is the right way for you to face in your parenting now? 4. Paddle with your core Apparently, many new paddle boarders believe they should paddle with their arms. Doing so, however, uses more energy and results in quicker fatigue. Green Water Sports suggests that we should be using our core, the strongest muscles of our body, to do the work. What are your strongest muscles as parents? What is at the core of your parenting? How can you utilize that inner strength to help you steer your paddle board in a more energy efficient manner? 5. Look at the horizon When you are trying to paddle board, looking down and constantly checking your foot position can actually make you lose balance and wind up in the water. Looking at the horizon helps paddle boarders to stay afloat. Looking at the horizon has also been known to help reduce seasickness. I'm going to try to remember this tip next time I find myself nauseous on my paddle board. As parents paddle boarding through life we should stand tall, look ahead and trust our feet. Let the horizon steady us. What is your horizon as a parent? What steadies you? 6. Stay out of the way There are lots of other paddle boarders out there! Let's try to avoid cramming into the same space, sending each other toppling into the water. Respect each other's paddling and give each other room and space to fall. Some of us are having good days, filled with balance, strong cores and steady feet. Others are clinging to their boards in sheer panic. Respect each other's differences. Who do you want near you when you are paddling? Who do you need to stay away from? 7. Fall the right way Even professional paddle boarders fall sometimes. No one is perfect. The same holds true for parenting. We all will fail and make mistakes along the way. How we fall and climb back on the board is what matters - both in parenting and paddle boarding. What is your plan for how you will get back on the board the next time you fall off? What is your plan to make sure you fall the right way? 8. Ride waves you can handle Green Water Sports says, "Be smart and ride waves in the right conditions for your skill level." Ah, if life could be sure to only give me problems that match my skill level! However, life sends us giant waves and winds for which we are not prepared and while we can't suddenly develop the appropriate skills, we can find places to turn for help. Where can you turn when the waves get too big for you to handle? 9. Watch the wind Know the forecast. Spend some time talking to others. Prepare yourself and notice the signs of changing conditions. But when all of the advanced planning fails (as it inevitable does!), Green Water Sports details a concept called "paddling prone" that paddle boarders utilize when the wind and waves get too strong. Sometimes all we can do is drop to our bellies, let go of the paddle and use our hands to steer us through the rough parts. How do you know when you need to paddle prone? Do you beat yourself up over needing to paddle prone sometimes? 10. Look after your board and your paddle Someone once told me that self care is not selfish. Just as paddle boarders need to take care of their board and paddles, checking for cracks, dents and needed repairs, so too do we need to constantly take care of ourselves as parents. We can't paddle board our way through parenting if we are broken. How can you look after your own board and paddle? "Unless you paddle for the wave, you'll never know if you could catch it. But once you do... Ride it as long as you can. Love as long as you can." - Abigail Spencer
Click below to listen to Episode 9 from The Changing Perspectives Podcast: "Myths About Hospice"
For more articles and podcasts by Jenni about grief and hospice, click the links below:
Like many other parents, I read all the baby books, bought all the baby products and prepared as best I could for parenthood before my oldest child was born almost 11 years ago. As we struggled through sleepless nights, terrible 2's and horrible 3's, I looked forward to that sweet spot; the place where childhood would become easier for the entire family. I can't completely say where it happened, when it happened or how it happened. But, it happened. Parenting became comfortable and even when things were not easy, they were at least familiar.
Recently, though, things began changing. Clouds started to fill my usually bright skies. Then came the rain. At first, it started with big fat single raindrops that would be scattered throughout my days and weeks; just a few little drops of rain, here and there. The rain drops were so few and far between that I could almost completely ignore them. Then came the occasional rain storms; brief but harder to ignore. Finally, the full-on hurricane rolled ashore. Clearly I had missed out on the warnings. I realized quickly that I probably should have planned more, prepared more or at least looked into umbrella options. But, it's here now and I can't ignore it anymore. My baby is growing up and things don't look that familiar anymore. I watched my baby at bat a few weeks ago. The lights were bright and the crowd was cheering as he stepped up to the plate, the lead-off batter for his team in the bottom of the sixth inning in a semi-finals game. As he tapped his bat around home plate in his ritual motion, I realized that this would likely be the last time I would see the 10 year old version of him at bat. Gone was my shy 5 year old who would stand at the plate, too terrified to swing. Totally unprepared for such emotion, I quickly fought back the tears and swallowed away the lump that had formed in my throat. A few days later, we met some families at a local water park and my visions of us exploring the park together as a family were quickly dashed. He was delighted to spend the day with his friends, only joining us, his family, when we forced him to eat, hydrate and sunblock. Gone was the timid child who needed to hold my hand and needed reassurance about ride safety. And then, just a few days ago, I watched him take the football field with his new team, a team that only last year had seemed to be filled with almost-teenagers; kids so much bigger than him. Gone is his need for me to be present at each and every single practice. Gone is the little boy who feared making a tackle. Let's not forget the ever increasing worries about things like boyfriends/girlfriends in his peer group, social media accounts to learn about and monitor and constant requests for a cell phone. The hurricane has arrived and it is time to figure out how to survive it. After reflecting on my feelings over the past few weeks, I have come to realize that although the initial emotions hit me like a hurricane for which I did not prepare, I'm learning to see this point in time as something far different than a storm. Rather, most days it feels like we are standing on a very long bridge. On one side of the bridge is his childhood - filled with transformers, his raspy baby voice, his baby blankie, him needing to hold my hand and his belief that Disney characters are real. On the other side of the bridge is his adolescence and all the things that will come along with it; things that I can't even fully comprehend yet. Some days we are closer to the childhood side of the bridge, especially at night when he asks me to tuck him in, talk about our day and whisper some good things to look forward to the next day. On those days, I can barely see the other side of the bridge. All I see is the child version of him: sweet, innocent, small, safe. Other days, though, we are closer to the adolescent side of the bridge and the childhood side of the bridge is completely out of my line of sight. On those days, I see a young man when I look at him and I can envision the possibilities for his future: high school sports, driving, college prep. No one ever told me about this bridge. At least, I don't think I remember hearing about it in all my pre-parenting preparation. This place, this bridge, is completely foreign to me. Some parts of the bridge are beautiful and well-crafted with great big reinforced railings. Those parts feel safe and sort of exciting and I want to linger there a bit longer, soaking in the final pieces of his childhood. Other parts of the bridge, however, are worn-down and if you aren't careful, you can fall off the edge. Those are the parts that scare me and keep me awake some nights; the parts that have me asking other parents for their advice. What will happen once we get to the other side? What will life be like then? What will our relationship with each other be like then? This is usually the part of my blog where I offer up some tips, advice from researchers or insights of my own. If you've read this far hoping to find some, I have to apologize. I've got none to offer today. I have never been on this bridge before and clearly didn't prepare for it. All I can do is name where we are because I know some of you are on similar bridges. It's scary, exciting, terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. Completely bittersweet. While most times I want to take him firmly by the hand, turn around and head back to the childhood side of the bridge, the side I know really well, I also find myself sometimes looking with anticipation toward the adolescent side of the bridge.Maybe it's not so bad? While I do not know the best way to spend my time on the bridge, I do know that I want to try to learn as many lessons as I can from this bridge. I want to find a balance between giving my baby his independence and holding onto our precious family time. I want to continue to let him hold onto little pieces of his childhood, like that baby blankie that he still keeps on his bed, while providing him space to make his own mistakes and figure out who he will be. I'm sure I will tumble off the bridge at one point or another but I think I can climb back on and keep moving forward. So, for now, I am going to enjoy our time on the bridge; our time between childhood and adolescence. And maybe, just maybe, we will see that this is another sweet spot in our family's journey.
Any guesses as to what I'm describing? NFL games? Red Sox vs. Yankee games? NHL playoffs? Nope. Youth sporting events. Youth. Kids. People who are just as close in age to being toddlers as they are to being adults. Our children. Let that all sink in. Re-read it. This is some of what I have been seeing over the past year at children's baseball, football and basketball games. Is it a list to be proud of? If the list is followed by a title like "Undefeated" or "Champs" does that make the list more acceptable? This post will be as difficult for some to read as it was for me to write. There is a distinct possibility that my words will offend some people. I apologize in advance. I can guarantee some people will find my view too soft; too social worker-y; too unrealistic. I am asking you to hold up the proverbial mirror and take a good, long, critical look at yourself as parents of children in youth sports. Honest self reflection is not easy; it is hard, painful work. Let me be the first to publicly and openly admit that I am guilty of some of the items I've listed. Negativity can be a catchy little bugger and I have found myself quickly sucked into the negativity vortex on more than one occasion. While I am being honest, I should admit that I have probably sometimes been the start of the negativity. But, I'm not proud of it. I can do better. All of us can do better. What would youth sports look like if we all practiced some of the following strategies? Be Proud, Not Boastful I get it. There are moments where we want our children to feel like they are the best. In our eyes, they are the best. Besides, there will always be someone who is the best so why shouldn't it be our own child? Of course we are filled with pride when our child makes the varsity squad or an all star team or has the best stats. We should absolutely share that pride with the world! But, can we find a way to express pride in our children without putting down someone else's child? Can we teach our children to be proud of themselves without being arrogant? Can we be a bit more mindful about HOW we express our pride? Can we help our children to win with grace and dignity? Do we really need to pit our children against each other? Where will that lead them as they move through the really difficult parts of their childhood and adolescence? Let it Go It seems that our social media accounts have become the high school cafeteria for adults; ripe with mean girl behavior and teasing. Passive aggressive memes and posts litter our social media feeds, often under the guise of being funny, insightful or interesting comments and quotes. If we are being honest, though, sometimes they are nothing more than hurtful jabs at other parents and coaches. Will we tolerate such behavior from our own children in a few years on social media? I hope not. So, why do we allow ourselves to stoop so low now? Why do we tolerate it from our own friends when we see it? We are not going to like everyone and not everyone is going to like us. People will push our buttons and make us feel crazy, for sure. It's our jobs as the grown ups to find a way to cope with those feelings in a positive and respectable manner. We have to be the role models - even when we don't want that job. Point out the Positive Negativity spreads like wild fire. One coach, parent, ump or child with negative energy can set off a chain reaction of negativity and soon everyone has it. You know what it looks like. Slumped shoulders. Eye rolling. Head shaking. Slamming things. Muttering under breath. It happens. But, do you know what else spreads like wild fire? Positivity. It's ok to cheer on 8, 9, 10, 11 and 12 year olds. It really is. Yes, even after they make a mistake - even a huge mistake. You can still find something positive to say in most circumstances. Despite what some people say, I firmly believe that building up our children will NOT create a generation of helpless, spineless, whine bags. Inspire Improvement I would never advocate only pointing out the positive and I am not advocating for participation trophies for everyone. We should absolutely be providing our children with clear and constructive feedback as we help them to be better versions of themselves. How can you encourage them to reach their goals? Can we do it without demeaning them in front of everyone? What if we were all a bit more thoughtful about how and when we provide such feedback to our children? When are we doing it out of anger and frustration versus the result of thoughtful consideration? Winning Isn't Everything Sometimes it isn't about the winning at all. Sometimes some of life's greatest lessons come from the loss. Sure, state, district and national titles would all be amazing. But, if you are being honest, how much would they really truly matter to our children in 10 years? Will such things define them? Will they define us? If so, what does that mean about us? Remember that They are Kids We are raising children in a much different world and a much different time than when we were children. Today's children have a lot on their plates and while they may never have to walk uphill in the snow barefoot for two miles each way to get to school like we had to do, their lives are plenty hard enough right now. They are still children. Quite a few of them still hold tight to the stories of Santa Clause and the Tooth Fairy. Would it be terrible to let them just have fun and enjoy their youth? Would it be ok for them to enjoy the game, even if they lose? Bruce Brown and Rob Miller, founders of Proactive Coaching, LLC, found in their research that most children just want to hear parents tell them "I love to watch you play." That's it. They don't want positive or negative feedback after a game; they just want to be children. Their research also found that for many children their least favorite part of a sports game was the ride home with their parents (Henson, 2012). Think about it - what gets said in the car after your children's games? There is ample research out there today about the outcomes of youth sports. Do you know what a lot of the research suggests? According to Merkel (2013), analysis of multiple youth sports studies found that participation in youth sports is neither inherently good or bad for our children. Rather, whether our children's participation in youth sports turns out to be a good thing for them depends on a variety of factors. Peers, parents, coaches and even society and the media can heavily influence whether youth sports are positive experiences for children. Notice what is missing there - number of wins and losses, level of elite athleticism, number of trophies. We, the adults, have a pretty big impact on whether their participation in sports is a good thing. Maybe we are focusing too much on the wrong things! So, next time you are at your child's game, I encourage you to take a moment and breathe it all in. Look around at what is happening. Remember that they are children and remember the pretty big role you play in youth sports and the impact those sports could have on your child. These days are going to be over soon - for them and for us. How do you want your child to remember these times? How do you want to remember these times? Could we all do better? I believe we can. We should. For us. For each other. For them. References Henson, S. (2012). What make a nightmare sports parent -- And what makes a great one. Retrieved August 1, 2016 from http://www.thepostgame.com/blog/more-family-fun/201202/what-makes-nightmare-sports-parent Merkel, D. M. (2013). Youth sport: Positive and negative impact on young athletes. Open Access Journal of Sports Medicine, 4, 151-160. |
About Changing PerspectivesI often find myself encouraging people to consider changing their perspective or reframe the way in which they view things. This blog is an extension of that practice and is also an opportunity for me to write from a number of different perspectives including clinician, educator, mother, friend and supervisor. Blog topics are also quite varied and changeable. Topics explored include, but are certainly not limited to, grief, parenting, health and wellness and relationships. Join me and explore a number of changing perspectives! Categories
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