All sentiments I heard from my players last basketball season.
Victims.
At our last practice, I gave each girl a flashlight.
“Ultimately, you choose what you shine your light on. Are you going to shine it on what is out of your control? Unfair players and referees? Offensive injuries? Or, instead, are you going to shine your light on what you CAN do. Are you going to see the possibility?”
In the heat of the moment, the lesson remains true: Focus on what you alone can control.
This same principle applies to my daughters with nightmares.
Can we control the terrible thoughts that enter our heads? Not always.
But can we allow them to pass by us like a moving thundercloud without allowing them to rain on our parade? Yes.
We can choose to shine our light, our thoughts on something that brings us joy.
A recent trip to the beach, the taste of ice cream, a memory of snow. The possibility.
No, we cannot control that which offends our personal space.
“If there’s one thing we can always count on,” I explain to my daughter, “it’s change.”
No matter how much we wish we could freeze time or return to the way things were before, change is inevitable.
We may not be able to force the way things change, but we are able to control how we respond to it.
Entering her first year of middle school, my eldest daughter is enduring a lot of change that frankly, she’s not a huge fan of.
Riding the school bus for the first time, switching classes that are much larger than elementary and the loss of the familiarity of her previous school.
Change is hard, for better or worse.
In these beginning moments of great change, her emotions are running hot and cold. The smallest of problems are monumental. It reminds me of a conversation I had with her when she was just four years old.
I had just given birth to our third daughter, resulting in me leaving my two and four year old to play on their own while I nursed their baby sister to sleep.
They would barge in with battles over a toy or to ask if they could have some pretzels, waking the baby from her near slumber.
It was time for an intervention.
I sat them both down and discussed the difference between “Big Problems” and “Little Problems”. I actually recorded it so that I could share it with my friends and I’m so glad I did because there’s a precious moment when the lightbulb goes off in my four year-old’s head. She got it.
Big problems are when you are bleeding, someone is at the door or there’s a bonafide emergency. Little problems are snack requests or arguments over toys.
The same still holds true. Sometimes in moments of stress and vulnerability, even the smallest problems seem overwhelming. But if we take a moment to stop and really think, we realize they aren’t so life-threatening after all.
Recognizing the difference is the first step.
Adapting is the next.
Forgotten materials and missed assignments are challenging, but fixable.
Changing schools is hard but not insurmountable.
The sooner we anticipate and roll with change, the less anxious we will feel.
“There’s another thing you can count on.”I whisper to her as I tuck her into bed.
A mother and her “tween” daughter at odds who ultimately work together to help Barbie and her land find their purpose.
America Ferrera’s speech to “wake up” the barbies: “I’m just so tired of watching myself, and every single other woman, tie herself into knots so that people will like us.”
I had been in labor for 37 hours when my mom entered the room and walked straight to my husband, with a breakfast sandwich, exclaiming, “You must be so tired.”
New Leaf Parenting 