Please Don't Tell Me I'm a Supermom

When I tell people I've gone to the store, or out to eat, or made dinner, or gotten a few hours of work done, or some other apparently monumental task while being responsible for all four of my kids, I get exclamations of amazement. "You're a supermom!", they'll say. Or, "I only have two, and I can barely manage most nights!" Or, "I don't know how you do it!" I know these are meant as compliments and are honest reactions to something outside their own frame of reference. And I appreciate them as such.

But it makes me uncomfortable just the same. Because secretly, deep down, it releases all kinds of insecurities. All I can think of is all the things I've done wrong, the mistakes I've made, the things I wish I had managed to do. I berate myself for not paying enough attention to the kids, for letting them fend for themselves while I work in another room, or, conversely, for spending a few hours with them instead of working a few more hours to pad my paycheck. Or, for neglecting both work and kids to sit on the toilet and play Candy Crush in private. I should hold my baby more, hug my five-year-old more, draw with my toddler more, and read with my seven-year-old more. I should put the phone down during dinner and make them tell me about their day. I should try harder to get the toddler to take a regular nap. I should get the middle two dressed before noon. I should take them to the park more so they can run around on sunny days. I should replace their bike helmets and let them out front to ride. I should fold their laundry. I should wipe down the kitchen counters, sweep the floor of the toddler's food-leavings, and change the baby's diaper and give him a bath.

I see other people accomplishing things I haven't been able to, and I think I have no right to those compliments. I'm not "doing it all." I'm not a supermom. And when you tell me I am, you're belittling yourself. You're negating all of the amazing things you've managed to do, like have a dance party in the living room and do an art project with your preschooler, like cook healthy meals all week long, get your car washed, and clean your toilets. Like sign your second-grader up for soccer, acquire all the gear he needs, and attend all his games. Like save up for two years to take the family to Disneyland. Like start your own business and run it successfully, work full time outside the house and still get the laundry folded and the lawn mowed, and remember to pick up a birthday present for the party this weekend.

I'm just a mom. Some things, I know I do well. Some things, I know I could improve. And, looking at you, looking at how well dressed you are, how neat and clean your house is, how you make healthy meals all the time and get your housework done regularly and limit screen time to just the weekends, and have money left in the bank at the end of the month, some things make me feel very, very inadequate. Not because I think you're judging me, but because I'm judging myself.

Please don't tell me I'm a supermom. I don't feel all that super, and I don't have a cape. Sure, I made it to the grocery store, but I nearly lost the stroller, forgot to buy half the things we needed, and left the reusable bags at home. Yeah, I got the oldest to school on time, but the other three are still in pajamas and the toddler's diaper needs changing. Absolutely, I made dinner and put the dishes in the dishwasher, but I didn't make them clean up their toys, there are shoes everywhere, and the baby is crying in his swing while I rinse the last of the dishes.

No one's life is perfect. I think as moms we only see our own shortcomings while we admire the accomplishments of all moms around us. I'm wondering how she can remember to put jackets on both of her kids and manage to keep them from running around screaming in the store, while she's wondering how I can load four kids into the car in half the time it takes her to put her two in. I'm wondering how she finds the time to make dinners from scratch every night and keep the living room free of clutter, while she's wondering how I can work part time from home with three kids in the house.

I'll tell you what, if you buy the capes, I'll wash them. But don't blame me if I forget to put them in the dryer.

This, Too, Shall Pass, and Other Wisdom

I find myself, with about eight weeks left of this pregnancy, suddenly terrified of having a newborn again. This happens with each consecutive child. I cycle from excited, to thinking we must be crazy, to content, to excited, to terrified, to content, to excited, to OMG WHAT WERE WE THINKING?, then back to excited, then content, then terrified.

Part of it is our kids are spaced just-so, that we finally are at a point where sleep is basically working, routines are basically established, everybody's got some level of independence, and I feel like I'm in the groove, and then we throw another newborn into the mix and everything gets thrown out of whack again. And this being my fourth time through the ringer, well, I kind of do know what to expect.

In some ways, knowing what to expect is comforting. I know what to do with a newborn. I know phases start and phases end. I have almost seven years of watching kids grow up under my belt and have been through sleeplessness and teething and illness and firsts and potty training and nightmares and picky eating and tantrums and I know that "this, too, shall pass" is an absolute mantra of parenting. I know I can stick it out for a little longer until one problem ends as suddenly as another begins. I can pass along the sage wisdom of, "Just when you think you have it all figured out, they change it up on you again," and I can remember it for myself. I know that "do what works," "wait it out," and "give it another couple weeks" are absolute truths. I know that every kid is different, that every baby needs love, and that I have the strength and capacity to make it through this hour, this day, this week.

But in other ways, knowing what to expect is terrifying! I know about the sleepless nights, the crying for no reason (both me and the baby!), the stress of feeding issues and poo-splosions. I know about the pain of recovering from childbirth. I've experienced the complexities of balancing the needs of the older kids and the baby, and the sheer exhaustion of new parenthood. (And it's still new, even when it's for the fourth time.) I know about the disruption of routine, the randomness of life with a newborn, and the stress of evening fussiness. I know that sleepless nights and teething woes are once again on the horizon.

I find I do have a longer view than I used to. I'm already thinking about next fall, when my second will start kindergarten, my third will be three, and the new one, who is right know kicking and dancing within me, will be almost one. Because I can envision that, when it used to seem impossible that my kids would ever grow up, grow bigger, start school. It used to feel like toddlerhood was forever, that I'd be always wiping butts and noses (not simultaneously), cutting up food into tiny pieces, and washing sippy cups. Now I see that it is not. That life will change. That one day my days will be my own (except for school breaks and sickness), that my kids will be helpful in stores, that I won't have car seats to buckle or diapers to change, that I won't have to supervise trips to the bathroom, that as suddenly as life changes when you give birth, life gradually evolves again as that baby becomes a little person who walks and talks and has opinions all his own.

So, I'm terrified of the short term, of what I know is coming in the next few months and years. But I'm excited, too, about the long term, of watching another bright soul come into his own, of seeing our once-little family become huge and full of life and noise and warmth and love.

To those of you out there with one little one, or two little ones, who see life at knee-height, whose days are full of poop and whose nights are empty of sleep: give it a few weeks, months, a year. Life will expand. Your kids will grow. You will grow. You have the strength to make it through this hour, this day, this month. And while you may not look back fondly on every tantrum (yours or theirs), you'll look back and know that the weeks are shorter than they seem and that the months go by faster than you could ever have imagined.

Watching What We Say To Our Kids

When my oldest, N, was young, probably toddler-aged, I read in a book or on a blog or in some article a very, very important bit of parenting advice that has stuck with me more than anything else I've read or tried, and applies regardless of what other parenting or discipline methods you subscribe to. It has to do with how we talk to our kids, both in praise and in displeasure.

It's a simple concept, really, but in practice it takes concentration and self-control. What it boils down to is, when we talk to our children about their behavior, positive or negative, good or bad, it's vital to talk about the action, not the character of the child. We need to reinforce actions we want them to take again, and we want to point out and correct actions we want them to change. What we don't want to do is praise or criticize things they can't change or traits they can't "do."

Let's look at a positive example first.

Let's say your kid is very smart (of course!), and they bring home their first report card, and it's straight A's (of course), and the teacher's comment is that your child is a pleasure to have in class and is above grade level in every subject. That's fantastic. You're ecstatic! You've always demanded academic excellence of your children, and you knew he had it in him, and you're thrilled that he's living up to all your expectations for him. You want to convey to your child that you are very happy with his performance in school and want him to continue to excel, put out effort, work hard, and enjoy learning.

What not to say: "You're so smart!"

Why not? He is smart! He should be proud of himself!

Yes, but "smart" isn't something he does or doesn't do. "Smart" isn't something he can change about himself. "Smart" isn't a lesson he can learn or an action he can repeat. And what happens when he fails his first test or forgets to do his homework or gets yelled at by a teacher? Is he suddenly not "smart"? How is he supposed to remedy any setbacks with "smart"?

What to say instead: "You worked hard and it shows! I'm so proud of the effort you made!"

Here, you're praising what he did, not the trait of "smartness." This way he knows that hard work and persistence is what's going to get him ahead in life and in school. "Smart" is all well and good, but it's what you do with "smart" that will make the difference. Plenty of smart people do poorly in school, fail out, or give up, either because they're bored or because they don't know how to deal with not understanding something or failing once. With praising the effort rather than the trait, he now knows that it's up to him to continue to put out that effort to do well, and that if there is a setback or failure, he can step it up and keep trying in order to succeed.

Now, let's look at the flip side - a negative example.

By negative, I mean a behavior you want to correct.

Let's say your kid has trouble getting ready for school on time. She dawdles when she's getting dressed, wastes time while eating breakfast, and takes twice as long as she should to pack up her backpack, and even then manages to forget stuff, and you find yourself constantly having to bring her lunch or homework to school for her later. This, understandably, causes frustration every morning, and in a moment of pique, you yell at her.

What not to say: "You're so lazy! What's wrong with you? It's the same every morning! Why are you so slow?!"

Why not? She is being lazy and slow! And it's annoying! And you're sick of it!

Yes, of course you're sick of it, and frustrated, and you can't understand why she hasn't learned yet. But telling her she's lazy and slow is reinforcing an image she's already created of herself. And if she's a lazy, slow kid, then that's just who she is - see, even Mom thinks so - and it's not going to change now. You even said so: it's the same every morning.

What to say instead: (And, yes, you can yell this if you need to!) "It takes so long for you to get ready in the morning! Why don't you get your stuff together the night before! That would save so much time, and I wouldn't have to constantly be bringing your things to you at school! You need to get dressed before you eat breakfast, and you need to eat more quickly."

Here, we're talking about specific actions she can take to improve the mornings. Suggesting, even yelling, that she get her backpack together in the evening gives her a goal, something clear she can do to help her along and save her time. Maybe she honestly hasn't thought of doing that, and having you plant the idea is all she needed. Knowing that she doesn't get breakfast until she's dressed might mean she'll get dressed more quickly, because she has a goal. And, if you're willing to go that far, you can even add in that if she doesn't get dressed fast enough, she won't have time for breakfast and will either have to skip it (not recommended) or take a banana or something along in the car or on the walk to school so she isn't starving.

It's very important in a scenario like this that when she does make a positive change, such as getting her backpack ready the night before, that you acknowledge it. And, referring to above, don't say, "Good job!" Say, "Wow, getting your things ready last night made it so much easier this morning. Look at that, you're ready to go 10 minutes early!" You don't actually have to praise her, but you definitely need to show that you noticed and point out what a difference it made. If she's anything like my kid, you'll see her swell with pride at having done something "right," and hopefully that's a feeling she'll want to recapture and will continue to improve.

Let's look at one more example of each.

First, the positive.

Let's say your teenage daughter is very pretty (of course!). People are always telling her, "You're so pretty!" Even you take pride in the fact that she's so beautiful and perfect. One day, she wears an outfit that suits her especially well. Her makeup is done just-so, her hair is shiny and perfect. You're so lucky to have such a pretty daughter.

What not to say: "You're so pretty!"

Why not? She is pretty!

Well, we all know that beauty can fade, and while girls can get by on their looks for a while, eventually they also need some substance to their character to be anything in life. I hope that beyond beauty, you have dreams for your daughter to succeed in areas that require persistence, intelligence, or kindness as well.

What to say instead: I think there's a twofold reaction needed here. First, if you want to express that she's looking especially good that day, start with, "Wow, I love that outfit on you. You pick out such nice clothing." This is praising the act of choosing an attractive outfit, rather than the trait of "being pretty." She can continue to choose flattering, appropriate clothing for herself even if something happens to alter her current looks. But it's also important that you don't emphasize beauty over everything else. Be sure you're praising her for other achievements or activities, such as acts of kindness, persistence, or academic excellence. She needs to know there's more to life than looks, and she also needs to know that you value her for more than her appearance.

And now something you want to change.

Your four-year-old son is having trouble with his behavior at preschool. He's been biting and pinching other kids, and finally the director calls you in and says that if there's one more incident, he'll be asked to leave. The violence, defiance, and other difficult behaviors have to stop, because it's causing too much of a disruption and other parents are angry that their children are being hurt. You know it's time for some serious action on your part.

What not to say: "You're such a bad kid! Look at you, four years old and getting kicked out of school! Why can't you behave?!"

Why not?

I hope this time it's obvious. At four years old, you've already told him he's "bad" and that he can't behave. He's going to internalize statements like these and just assume that it's true: He's a bad kid who can't behave. And guess what bad kids who can't behave do? They misbehave!

Calling names or assigning negative traits to your child will only make things worse. Instead, they need to know both the "don't"s and "do"s of what happened so that they can hopefully make corrections in the future.

What to say instead: "Biting and pinching hurts other kids and makes them sad. If you hurt other kids, you won't be allowed to go to school anymore, and I think that will make you sad. You always tell me how much you like going to school." That's the "don't" part. But he may need more help. Continue with, "If you don't like something another child does, you need to use your words to tell them. Say, 'Don't do that!' instead of pinching, or go tell the teacher if you're upset about something." Now he has an action he can take. You've given him an alternative to violence. You're telling him to use words, and not just a vague, "use words," but exactly what words to use.

It's important to model that behavior for him, too. If he tries to bite or pinch a sibling when he's angry, or he takes a swipe at you when you do something he doesn't like, that's your opportunity to show him, in the heat of the moment, how he should act. Stop the negative behavior first, physically if you have to (grab his wrist to stop a pinch, or pull him away from the sibling - not something violent, just stop it before he gets there, if possible), and then supply the words instead. "We don't pinch, remember?! Say, 'David, I was playing with that toy and you took it. Please give it back!'" Or, "We don't hit Mommy! If you're angry with me, you can say, 'Mommy, I'm mad that you won't let me watch TV!'" Then encourage him to try it. That doesn't mean you have to let him do whatever it was he wanted to do, but you're giving him words for his feelings and a healthy way to express those feelings, instead of hitting you.

I'm not saying you're going to see a change overnight in any of these scenarios. Indeed, if there are deeper issues affecting your child's behavior, it may take far more than simple words to make that change. But words are a great place to start, because kids take far more meaning from what we say than we think they will. They also imitate what they hear and internalize values based on what you say to them. If we show them the proper behavior, demonstrate it in context, and live according to the values we want them to absorb, most kids will live up to, or even exceed, the goals we have for them.

Guest Post: Single Mom/Book Coach Says: The Best Parenting Books are in the Business Section

Today we have a guest post from Rebecca McCarthy. Rebecca is a freelance writer and book coach at The Written Coach, Your Guide to Writing an Unforgettable Book to Grow Your Business, as well as a single mom of two adorable boys. She shares with us a valuable discovery: Parenting is management, and kids are like employees. See how a management technique from a book focused on executive leadership development made bedtime at Rebecca's house a breeze, and check out some more of her insights. 


Find Rebecca at http://www.thewrittencoach.com, and check out her Facebook page, https://www.facebook.com/TheWrittenCoach.

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Single Mom/Book Coach Says: The Best Parenting Books are in the Business Section

There are no bedtime battles in my house. At 7:00 my kids take a bath, brush their teeth, put on their PJ's, read a story and get into bed—all with much enthusiasm and no argument. But up until two months ago, this was not the case. My older son, whose speech is somewhat disordered due to autism, used to shout, “No bed! No bed! Mommy can you have give it play? I want play? I WANT PLAY!!!” My toddler always joined in, “I want pway! No sweepytime! AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!”

Determined to win these battles, I tried reasoning, negotiating, out-shouting, ignoring, soothing, cuddling, caressing, shushing, rocking, hugging—every technique in the book from Supernanny to Dr. Sears and beyond—and lost. After a while I just accepted that my kids weren’t going to be “sleep-trained” until they were much older. “Well it’s autism,” I said to myself. “He’s just not going to be ready to let go of me for a long time…”

The turnaround came when I was asked to write up a summary for one of my clients about a webinar based on the book, Multipliers: How the Best Leaders Make Everyone Smarter, by Liz Wiseman. If you’ve never heard of it, it’s a Wall Street Journal bestseller focused on executive leadership development. Target audience = not single moms. I didn’t read this book expecting to find anything for me.

But there was an exercise in the book called, “The Extreme Question Challenge,” where you have to get a person, or a group of people, to accomplish a task, but you can’t use statements, directions, explanations or orders; you can only ask questions. It’s meant to help CEOs transition out of the Know-It-All mindset. The author learned about this technique from a co-worker, and then tried it on her kids. So I tried it on my kids…

That night at bedtime, I said, “What time is it?”

My older son said, “Bedtime!”

I followed up, “Oh. So…what do we do at bedtime?”

“We go upstairs!” he said excitedly and skipped towards the stairs.

“Shasha teef!” chirped the baby and ran after him. (…“brush your teeth” for those of you who don’t speak toddler.)

I went upstairs to find both boys standing at the bathroom sink, brushing away. When they finished, I asked, “What comes next?”

My older boy zipped over to his room and, all smiles, said, “Pajamas!”

“Where do pajamas go? On your head?”

“No! On your legs and on your tushy!” (commence giggles. You know, because, tushy).

I was really surprised at how much they knew. They didn’t need me to micromanage them through the bedtime routine. I was also touched by how much they wanted to impress me, and show me that they knew it. When I turned out the light and walked away, I almost cried. The problem with bedtime, all along, had been me.

I have since scoured Multipliers forwards and backwards, gleaning every ounce of instruction, inspiration and advice inside. I’m learning that leadership is a transformational process that takes practice and time, which is a concept I just never got from all the other parenting books out there. (I don’t know why exactly, but I suppose somehow it’s offensive to suggest that someone needs to improve their leadership skills in order to become an effective parent. It’s not what we want to hear.)

I've also changed the way I look at the business section of the bookstore. As the one-woman C-suite of my family, I've added the following books to my parenting library:

First, there’s Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us, by Daniel H. Pink. From this book I learned the three key motivators for inspiring my emplo...er...my children to perform at the top of their creativity and intelligence. Simon Sinek’s, Start With Why: How Great Leaders Inspire Everyone to Take Action is another great one. This life-changing book inspired me towards a deep inward search to discover what’s truly important to me about parenthood and why I chose to do it all in the first place. And The Speed of Trust, by Stephen M.R. Covey, taught me how to establish and nurture trust in my relationship with my kids.

When these authors set out to write their books, I sincerely doubt any of them had moms in mind. Their target markets are CEO’s and other business leaders, who manage multimillion-dollar organizations and have 500+ employees to supervise. But when a book speaks the truth, it becomes meaningful to all of us, even if all we supervise are two precocious little tots.

If you're reading my blog, it is likely you are considering writing a book to grow your business. Maybe it's worth taking a few moments to notice their far-reaching power. Books find their way to the people who need them, even if we don't know we need them.

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If you are interested in writing a guest post for Jessica on Babies, contact Jessica at jessicaonbabies (at) gmail (dot) com, or message her through her Facebook page.