Rachel Macy Stafford

Certified special education teacher and author

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6 Words You Should Say Today

Posted: 09/11/2013 11:24 am

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Affirmations, Expressing Love, Handsfree Mama, Kids And Sports, Kids-And-Activities, Parenting, Parents- Kids, Moms, Parents News

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Very rarely does one sentence have immediate impact on me.
Very rarely does one sentence change the way I interact with my family.
But this one did. It was not from Henry Thoreau or some renowned child psychologist. It was invaluable feedback from children themselves. And if I've learned anything on my Hands Free journey, it is that children are the true experts when it comes to grasping what really matters in life.
Here are the words that changed it all:
"... college athletes were asked what their parents said that made them feel great, that amplified their joy during and after a ballgame. Their overwhelming response: 'I love to watch you play.'"
The life-changing sentence came at the beginning of an article entitled, "What Makes a Nightmare Sports Parent and What Makes a Great One," which described powerful insights gathered over three decades by Bruce E. Brown and Rob Miller of Proactive Coaching LLC. Although I finished reading the entire piece, my eyes went back and searched for that one particular sentence -- the one that said, "I love to watch you play."
I read the sentence exactly five times. Then I tried to remember the past conversations I had with my kids at the conclusion of their extracurricular activities. Upon completion of a swim meet, a music recital, a school musical, or even a Sunday afternoon soccer game, had I ever said, "I love to watch you play"?
I could think of many occasions when I encouraged, guided, complimented, and provided suggestions for improvement. Did that make me a nightmare sports parent? No, but maybe sometimes I said more than was needed.
By nature, I am a wordy person -- wordy on phone messages (often getting cut off by that intrusive beep) and wordy in writing (Twitter is not my friend).
And although I have never really thought about it, I'm pretty sure I'm wordy in my praise, too. I try not to criticize, but when I go into extensive detail about my child's performance it could be misinterpreted as not being "good enough."
Could I really just say, "I love to watch you play," and leave it at that? And if I did, would my children stand there clueless at the next sporting event or musical performance because I had failed to provide all the extra details the time before?
Well, I would soon find out. As luck would have it, my then-8-year-old daughter had a swim meet the day after I read the article.
Her first event was the 25-yard freestyle. At the sound of the buzzer, my daughter exploded off the blocks and effortlessly streamlined beneath the water for an excruciating amount of time. Her sturdy arms, acting as propellers, emerged from the water driving her body forward at lightning speed. She hadn't even made it halfway down the lane when I reached up to wipe away the one small tear that formed in the corner of my eye.

Since my older daughter began swimming competitively several years ago, I have always had this same response to her first strokes in the first heat: I cry and turn away so no one sees my blubbering reaction.
I cry not because she's going to come in first.
I cry not because she's a future Olympian or scholarship recipient.
I cry because she's healthy; she's strong; she's capable.
And I cry because I love to watch her swim.
Oh my. Those six words... I love to watch her swim.
I had always felt that way -- tearing up at every meet, but I hadn't said it in so many words... or should I say, in so few words.
After the meet, my daughter and I stood in the locker room together, just the two of us. I wrapped a warm, dry towel around her shivering shoulders. And then I looked into her eyes and said, "I love to watch you swim. You glide so gracefully; you amaze me. I just love to watch you swim."
Okay, so it wasn't quite six words, but it was a huge reduction in what I normally would have said. And there was a reaction -- a new reaction to my end of the swim meet "pep talk."
My daughter slowly leaned into me, resting her damp head against my chest for several seconds, and expelled a heavy sigh. And in doing so, I swear I could read her mind:
The pressure's off. She just loves to watch me swim; that is all.
I knew I was onto something.
Several days later, my then-5-year-old daughter had ukulele practice. It was a big day for her. The colored dots that lined the neck of her instrument since she started playing almost two years ago were going to be removed. Her instructor believed she was ready to play without the aid of the stickers.

After removing the small blue, yellow, and red circles, her instructor asked her to play the song she had been working on for months -- Taylor Swift's "Ours." With no hesitation, my daughter began strumming and singing. I watched as her fingers adeptly found their homes -- no need for colorful stickers to guide them.
With a confident smile, my daughter belted out her favorite line, "Don't you worry your pretty little mind; people throw rocks at things that shine... "
As her small, agile fingers maneuvered the strings with ease, I had to look away. My vision blurred by the tears that formed. In fact, this emotional reaction happens every time she gets to that line of the song. Every. Single. Time.
I cry not because she has perfect pitch.
I cry not because she is a country music star in the making.
I cry because she is happy; she has a voice; and she is free.
And I cry because I love to watch her play.
I'll be darned if I hadn't told her this in so many words... or rather, in so few words.
My child and I exited the room upon the completion of her lesson. As we walked down the empty hallway, I knew what needed to be said.
I bent down, and looking straight into her blue eyes sheltered behind pink spectacles I said, "I love to watch you play your ukulele. I love to hear you sing."
It went against my grain to not elaborate, but I said nothing about the dots, nothing about the notes, and nothing about her pitch. This was a time to simply leave it at that.
My child's face broke into her most glorious smile -- the one that causes her eyes to scrunch up and become little slices of joy. And then she did something I didn't expect. She threw herself against me, wrapped her arms tightly around my neck, and whispered, "Thank you, Mama."
And in doing so, I swear I could read her mind:
The pressure's off. She loves to hear me play; that is all.
Given the overwhelmingly positive reactions of my daughters when presented with the short and sweet "I love to watch you play" remark, I knew I had a new mantra. Not that I would say it like a robot upon command or without reason, but I would say it when I felt it -- when tears come unexpectedly to my eyes or when suddenly I look down and see goose bumps on my arms.
Pretty soon I found myself saying things like:
"I love to hear you read."

"I love to watch you swing across the monkey bars."

"I love to watch you hold roly poly bugs so gently in your hand."

"I love to watch you help your friends in need."

I quickly realized how important it was to express that heart-palpitating kind of love that comes solely from observing someone you adore in action.
But there was more. I learned that this powerful phrase is not exclusive to children and teens.

This revelation hit me when my husband, donned with white bandage on his arm from giving blood, was hoisting a large trash bag as we cleaned the art room at a center for residents with autism.
I watched him from the corner of the room where I was dusting shelves with my younger daughter. Embarrassingly, I had to turn away so no one saw me tear up. In that moment, I reflected on other recent events where I had been going about my business and had to stop to take pause. Moments when I stopped to watch my husband in action simply to admire the loving person, the devoted husband, and caring father he is.
But had I ever told him in so few words?
It was time.
And since writing is much easier for me than speaking, I immediately wrote my observations down. There were no long-winded paragraphs or flowery descriptions, just words of love, plain and simple:
I love watching you help our daughter learn to roller skate.
I love watching you teach her how to throw the football.
I love watching you take care of your employees in times of need or uncertainty.
I love watching you interact with your brother and sister.
I love watching you read side by side with our daughter.
I love watching you take care of our family.

I typed up his note and left it on his dresser. I didn't stand around to see his reaction because that was not the purpose of this loving gesture. I felt those things, so I knew I should tell him those things.
When simply watching someone makes your heart feel as if it could explode right out of your chest, you really should let that person know.
It is as simple and lovely as that.
Rachel Macy Stafford's book, Hands Free Mama: A Guide to Putting Down the Phone, Burning the To-Do List, and Letting Go of Perfection to Grasp What Really Matters! is scheduled for release January 2014.

Living

What the Dying Want Us to Know About Living

Death teaches us not to rush past the things we'll wish we had more of at the very end of life

by Alexandra RosasSunday, August 25, 2013

Twenty-five years ago, I held my grandmother's hand as she passed away. Two and half weeks ago, it was my mother's hand that I held as she left our world.
I was there for the last days of life with both my mother and grandmother, and in our time together, they spoke of things with a sadness and urgency that they never had before.
There’s an old photo I have of my mother, which I’ve always loved. In it, she’s a young, sharply dressed working woman in South America, and you can feel the determination in her stride. I showed her this photo just a few weeks ago, and you could've heard the pride in my voice as I asked if she remembered where she was going on the day it was taken.
"I have always hated that picture," she said, which startled me. "I was always in a hurry. Hurrying. Always. For what?" She took a deep breath, and gently said it one more time, "Always in a hurry ...."
What left me astonished and teary-eyed was not the surprise of her hating the picture, but that these words were exactly the ones my grandmother had spoken to me on the morning of her own passing. I had been sitting vigil at her bedside and she was growing weaker with each day in the hospital. Stroking her hand, I spoke softly to her, "Abuela. Abuela, do you hear me? Remember when you would take us to the grocery store across the street from our house at the start of every summer, and you began our first day of vacation with a popsicle?"
Smiling, with her eyes still closed, she quietly answered, "I would tell you all to hurry, make your flavor choices, and to hurry. There was much to do. I would let you take your time choosing now, if I could. Things could have waited."
What the dying want us to do — and wish for us to know — is to regard our lives as precious moments making up our days. They want us to focus less on the big picture of building a large body of evidence that proves our accomplishments, and more on the true wonders in our life — the kind where we find unexpected beauty that will be remembered with a wistful smile.
Like walking with your child alongside you, going somewhere without purpose. Or waiting patiently while five- and six-year-old children choose, change their minds, choose, and then change their minds again, about the root-beer-flavored or the banana-flavored popsicles.
My mother and grandmother were telling me loud and clear that as we live our lives, we have to stop running and chasing what we think leads to happiness, and slow down before we rush past the very thing we'll wish we had more of at the very last hours of our days.
It's not too late to make sweet memories of children or grandchildren skipping alongside us, of us just being and not doing, of grateful children looking up to us smiling with orange-stained mouths, yelling excitedly, "Thank you for waiting for me until I picked my flavor, Grandma! I didn't know if I wanted the green or the orange!"
After hearing these words — not once, but twice — from loved ones who know everything they are about to leave behind, I know this is something I'll be working on to change.
And I'm forever grateful for the second chance.

6 ways to get your child talking at the dinner table

6 Ways to get your Child Talking at the Dinner Table

6 Sep

By Erika O. Cardamone, MS, CCC-SLP

How many conversations with your child start like this?:

 You: How was your day?
Child: Good.
You: Well that’s good. What did you do?
Child: Nothing.

Clearly, this was not the conversational spark that you were looking for. We ask our children these questions to become more apart of their lives; to understand them better. But what are the mind-blowing questions to ask to involve them in a complex verbal exchange of information, to cultivate curiosity, and enhance language skills?
Here are some uplifting questions to ask your kids at dinner, that will really spark the eye-opening conversation you were looking for:
1)  Best and Worst-  Ask your child What’s the best thing that happened today? and What’s the worst thing that happened today? It gives them a chance to be proud of themselves (e.g. “I got an A on my science test”) and also a chance to be humbled (e.g. “My team lost in gym class”). Be prepared to be amazed about how much your child will reveal with this simple question.
2) Money and Food- It can be comical how younger children conceptualize money. Ask How much money do you think the pasta cost? the tomatoes? or What’s the most/least expensive food on the table? For younger kids, teaching concepts of more/less is great language stimulation. For the older kids, maybe this is a good way to give them their first lesson in money, saving, and spending.
3) Favorite things on your plate- Have your child choose top three favorite foods and describe the taste and texture of each. Use descriptive words and adjectives (a great task for toddlers!) that expand your child’s vocabulary. Who knows, maybe someone else at the table can convince your child that brussels sprouts really are delicious!
4) What’s the grossest thing you’ve ever eaten?- Every child has had at least one bad experience with food. How did they react at that first taste of not-so-good something? What were their thoughts before tasting it? What would it take for them to try it again? or… What food would you wish didn’t exist? Some kids are notoriously dreading the vegetables. Others the protein! You may have an idea of your child’s picky eating habits, but choosing just ONE food that they could avoid forever? You might be surprised…
5)  What do you remember about last week’s dinner and conversation?- Helping to encourage good story-telling skills is a skill that promotes academic success. Have your child paint the picture and use details. Don’t be afraid to prompt them and ask “What else to you remember?” and “And then what?”
6) The Missing Person- Who do you wish was here at dinner now? Your child may choose a famous actor, singer, or athlete. Or maybe a cousin or grandparent. It’s always good to talk about the people you love and admire, so your children look for the same qualities in their hero/heroine.
What are some of your brave and daring quesitons that open the floodgates to table talk?
Erika Cardamone is a licensed speech-language pathologist, and founder of The Speechies. Follow her for more information and tips on how to help your child thrive.