Recently I experienced one of these all too precious moments. Tuesday, 29th July at about 8pm to be exact.
I had been looking through my Facebook feed the night before and noticed a friend's sister had shared an advertisement and tagged her in the post. It caught my eye because it was an information session about Sensory Processing Disorder. I was slightly interested from a parent's perspective, but really interested in going as a teacher. The school I work for is really encouraging in the area of professional development, so I decided I would like to go.
The following day came. A busy day at work, leaving home at 7 and getting home to see my little ones for only a short time, had me wondering if I really needed to go. But sometimes there is a knowing that goes beyond all understanding, so I went. Sitting in a draughty hall, stomach rumbling and just wishing for sleep and a heater, I waited. The information session was great as it turned out. Lots of amazing ideas that I will write about at a later time. But none of the ideas completely life changing. Then from the audience a woman, who kept interrupting the speakers throughout their presentation, stood up, yet again. This time the presenters introduced her as an international speaker on the subject, who had just so happened to move to the area. She had decided it was her duty to help her local community. Her insights were extraordinary and I struggled to keep up, typing furiously on my iPad. She then said something that caught my attention and I looked up. She said if there is one thing that she could tell parents, it would be…...
And then it happened.
"Children don't really hear what we say. They hear what we think."
My world stopped. I breathed out.
She went on.
She explained that whatever problem with our child we were currently focussed on, they already knew. And what's more, they would not fail to redeliver that problem to us again and again and again, if we continued to focus on it. She said as a community of educators and parents, we are all far too concerned about getting to the imaginary 'bottom of the problem.' She offered to save us all some time and said "there just isn't a bottom. Problems have a habit of growing babies." The focus, she claimed, needed to move onto what is currently working for the child and build on that. Finding solutions based on what was already successful, less from investigating problems, that may in fact may never end up leading to definitive answers.
My way of thinking as a parent was changed in those few moments.
But what next?
Amazing moments sometimes lead to nothing more than frustration if there is no way to implement the new ideas. I needn't have worried.
She went on.
The gifted speaker paused, looked around, perhaps knowing our lives had just changed forever, then said the words I was only to eager to hear. "As a parent there is something you can do today to change your thinking…." and she continued to outline the simplest strategy I have ever heard, on becoming a better parent.
This is it.
Buy a notebook and grab a pen. Put it somewhere in a high traffic area. Write down everything and anything that the child does that is positive.
The night continued. I tried to type every word. But my mind remained on those words, even as I walked back to my car, 'they hear what I think.' It might seem overly dramatic, especially for parents who have already figured this out, but for me it was big. It was big because I knew it was true. I knew that in trying to solve everything, I was missing something so much more important.
A day or two later I purchased a notebook. It cost $3.48 and I liked it because yellow is a happy colour and the pattern was nice, that's all. I got home and placed it next to the kettle and toaster, because I live there for a large portion of the day.
I started writing anything and everything. The only guide I gave myself was that I could include anything that made me think in a positive way about my children. The writing is completely messy. It is not in any order. I just write what ever I think of first, as I wait for the kettle to boil, toast to pop or on my way to the laundry or study. I began without a word to my children. This was about me, with no expectations about them.
I had no idea what, if anything, would change, but it did. Everything did. Because it changed me.
It's been a week now since I started the 'good memories journal' and even others who are regularly in our home have commented on the change in my children. Today I noticed that I myself am becoming angry less, and my children are more obedient. Jack and Isabel have started offering to help out more. The whole house seems calmer. It's as if less needs to be said. I've started to notice trends with certain children, and realised how much I have overlooked all the wonderful and kind things they all do every day, in search for answers to problems that no doubt will sort themselves out in time. I will continue to solve problems and search for answers to questions, just not first. My focus needs to be elsewhere. I think I've subconsciously started to play to their strengths, asking them to help in areas in which they naturally drift to and are good at, rather than enforcing rules across the board out of fear that they wouldn't become responsible. We are all saying "yes" more, instead of "no" or "yes, but." We are all listening, really listening. And most importantly I would no longer be upset at the thought that my children can hear what I think.
In the years to come, as I look back on the moment when I heard that my children hear what I think, I am in no doubt that I will be glad I skipped dinner, to go out in the cold that night. There will continue to be moments that will change me. I welcome the challenge, because I know from experience that the rewards can be worth it.
Tonight before bed Isabel hesitated in front of my open Journal, deep in thought. Abruptly she started walking off again. As she left I heard her say to no one in particular: "I think I might need to start a journal like this."
As she disappeared into the hall I turned and smiled. And walked over to pick up a pen.
I had been looking through my Facebook feed the night before and noticed a friend's sister had shared an advertisement and tagged her in the post. It caught my eye because it was an information session about Sensory Processing Disorder. I was slightly interested from a parent's perspective, but really interested in going as a teacher. The school I work for is really encouraging in the area of professional development, so I decided I would like to go.
The following day came. A busy day at work, leaving home at 7 and getting home to see my little ones for only a short time, had me wondering if I really needed to go. But sometimes there is a knowing that goes beyond all understanding, so I went. Sitting in a draughty hall, stomach rumbling and just wishing for sleep and a heater, I waited. The information session was great as it turned out. Lots of amazing ideas that I will write about at a later time. But none of the ideas completely life changing. Then from the audience a woman, who kept interrupting the speakers throughout their presentation, stood up, yet again. This time the presenters introduced her as an international speaker on the subject, who had just so happened to move to the area. She had decided it was her duty to help her local community. Her insights were extraordinary and I struggled to keep up, typing furiously on my iPad. She then said something that caught my attention and I looked up. She said if there is one thing that she could tell parents, it would be…...
And then it happened.
"Children don't really hear what we say. They hear what we think."
My world stopped. I breathed out.
She went on.
She explained that whatever problem with our child we were currently focussed on, they already knew. And what's more, they would not fail to redeliver that problem to us again and again and again, if we continued to focus on it. She said as a community of educators and parents, we are all far too concerned about getting to the imaginary 'bottom of the problem.' She offered to save us all some time and said "there just isn't a bottom. Problems have a habit of growing babies." The focus, she claimed, needed to move onto what is currently working for the child and build on that. Finding solutions based on what was already successful, less from investigating problems, that may in fact may never end up leading to definitive answers.
My way of thinking as a parent was changed in those few moments.
But what next?
Amazing moments sometimes lead to nothing more than frustration if there is no way to implement the new ideas. I needn't have worried.
She went on.
The gifted speaker paused, looked around, perhaps knowing our lives had just changed forever, then said the words I was only to eager to hear. "As a parent there is something you can do today to change your thinking…." and she continued to outline the simplest strategy I have ever heard, on becoming a better parent.
This is it.
Buy a notebook and grab a pen. Put it somewhere in a high traffic area. Write down everything and anything that the child does that is positive.
The night continued. I tried to type every word. But my mind remained on those words, even as I walked back to my car, 'they hear what I think.' It might seem overly dramatic, especially for parents who have already figured this out, but for me it was big. It was big because I knew it was true. I knew that in trying to solve everything, I was missing something so much more important.
A day or two later I purchased a notebook. It cost $3.48 and I liked it because yellow is a happy colour and the pattern was nice, that's all. I got home and placed it next to the kettle and toaster, because I live there for a large portion of the day.
I started writing anything and everything. The only guide I gave myself was that I could include anything that made me think in a positive way about my children. The writing is completely messy. It is not in any order. I just write what ever I think of first, as I wait for the kettle to boil, toast to pop or on my way to the laundry or study. I began without a word to my children. This was about me, with no expectations about them.
I had no idea what, if anything, would change, but it did. Everything did. Because it changed me.
It's been a week now since I started the 'good memories journal' and even others who are regularly in our home have commented on the change in my children. Today I noticed that I myself am becoming angry less, and my children are more obedient. Jack and Isabel have started offering to help out more. The whole house seems calmer. It's as if less needs to be said. I've started to notice trends with certain children, and realised how much I have overlooked all the wonderful and kind things they all do every day, in search for answers to problems that no doubt will sort themselves out in time. I will continue to solve problems and search for answers to questions, just not first. My focus needs to be elsewhere. I think I've subconsciously started to play to their strengths, asking them to help in areas in which they naturally drift to and are good at, rather than enforcing rules across the board out of fear that they wouldn't become responsible. We are all saying "yes" more, instead of "no" or "yes, but." We are all listening, really listening. And most importantly I would no longer be upset at the thought that my children can hear what I think.
In the years to come, as I look back on the moment when I heard that my children hear what I think, I am in no doubt that I will be glad I skipped dinner, to go out in the cold that night. There will continue to be moments that will change me. I welcome the challenge, because I know from experience that the rewards can be worth it.
Tonight before bed Isabel hesitated in front of my open Journal, deep in thought. Abruptly she started walking off again. As she left I heard her say to no one in particular: "I think I might need to start a journal like this."
As she disappeared into the hall I turned and smiled. And walked over to pick up a pen.
Brilliant!! :) I am going to start one of these today! :) Thanks for the encouragement. Our middle child is quite 'spirited' and I'm sure she hears lots of our joking remarks about her personality and behaviour. Let alone hearing my thoughts! But boy she is a dear little thing and I'd like to start writing down those amazing things she does and says so that in years to come those are what I recall :)
ReplyDeleteI felt the same way. Sounds like a similar child too. I hope you find it helpful.x
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