I’ve mentioned affirmations before (here). They are words and thoughts that are used to help create change. Our minds are such powerful tools to use for good! There have been times when my 3-year-old was sick and I would say, “Can you say, ‘I am healthy’?” And she would say it and smile. This was a test. Would she repeat the words I said? Would she learn to believe them? I kind of lost sight of my experiment for a while, until a particularly disturbing day unfolded with words that I did not think I would hear from her for another 10 years, if ever.
We’d had a wonderful day thus far and it was afternoon, post-nap. She wanted to work in her Pre-K workbook, something that we always do together. We had finished the tracing lines and loops section with relatively few outbursts and we were moving on to the alphabet. I was a little nervous. After finishing the big “A” and little “a” pages with such excitement and success, she wanted to move on to the letter “B”. We tried a few times, tracing the straight line and then making the curves. Her face crumbled and she pushed the pen at me. “You do it,” she said. I took the pen and gently told her I wasn’t going to do it for her, but I could help her hold the pen and trace the letters. She shook her head, grabbed the pen and threw it. I took a deep breath and grabbed her hands in mine. I said, “I know it’s hard work.” She scrunched up her face and said through her tears, “I’m not good! I’m not smart! I’m not amazing!”
Oh, my heart. It still brings tears to my eyes. How could such powerful, strong, negative words come out of my little girl’s mouth? How could she say such horrible things about herself? I grabbed hold of her tightly and felt her so tensely holding onto all this anger and frustration. I kept reiterating that the work was hard but she was good, smart and amazing. She kept saying the opposite. It all continued onto the couch where I held her through screaming, crying, kicking and then just those little shudders that occur after an intense cry. I had turned a cartoon on for her little sister so she wouldn’t be too lonely or scared during the outburst. My oldest initially yelled at me for that too, but after calming down, she asked for a specific show. I was relieved she’d stopped crying and I took a deep breath. Before I could speak, she said, “I am really good at saying words!” I laughed with tears in my eyes and said, “Yes, Sweets, you are.” And then she laughed. And I laughed some more. And we curled up into each other, safe and warm and suddenly okay with everything that had happened, and laughed.
Oh, my heart. It still brings tears to my eyes. How could such powerful, strong, negative words come out of my little girl’s mouth? How could she say such horrible things about herself? I grabbed hold of her tightly and felt her so tensely holding onto all this anger and frustration. I kept reiterating that the work was hard but she was good, smart and amazing. She kept saying the opposite. It all continued onto the couch where I held her through screaming, crying, kicking and then just those little shudders that occur after an intense cry. I had turned a cartoon on for her little sister so she wouldn’t be too lonely or scared during the outburst. My oldest initially yelled at me for that too, but after calming down, she asked for a specific show. I was relieved she’d stopped crying and I took a deep breath. Before I could speak, she said, “I am really good at saying words!” I laughed with tears in my eyes and said, “Yes, Sweets, you are.” And then she laughed. And I laughed some more. And we curled up into each other, safe and warm and suddenly okay with everything that had happened, and laughed.
I was still shaken that night as we got ready for bed so I decided to try to talk to her before she went to sleep. She often asks that one of us sit with her for a few minutes (“a shoe minutes”, in her words) each night. I told her that learning a new skill takes time. Not being able to do it doesn’t make you “not good”, it just means you need to practice and sometimes it’s just because you’re little. I told her I couldn’t write letters when I was 3, either. She looked hopeful and asked, “But you could do it when you got bigger?” Yes, yes I could do it when I got older. I asked her if she could repeat some things after me. I started with, “I am good.” She said, “I am good.” Then she giggled. I said, “I am kind.” She solemnly said, “I am kind.” I said, “I am smart.” She said, “I am smart, but, but I can’t write letters!” Again, we talked about skills and age and how she is still smart even if she can’t write letters yet. We started over again. Here are our affirmations:
I am good.
I am kind.
I am smart.
I am amazing.
When she finished her first round, she put her hand over her heart, smiled and said, “I will remember, Mommy.” We now say these four affirmations every night, three times. She smiles every time. Sometimes she puts her hand on her heart. Sometimes she’s serious, but ends up giggling. I’m amazed every night that this is becoming a part of her identity, the way she sees the world and the way she identifies herself.
I am good.
I am kind.
I am smart.
I am amazing.
When she finished her first round, she put her hand over her heart, smiled and said, “I will remember, Mommy.” We now say these four affirmations every night, three times. She smiles every time. Sometimes she puts her hand on her heart. Sometimes she’s serious, but ends up giggling. I’m amazed every night that this is becoming a part of her identity, the way she sees the world and the way she identifies herself.
I’ve decided to take this a step further. We also have an almost 2-year-old, who isn’t quite at the language stage. She happily flits from activity to activity and is very gentle and accepting, in ways our older daughter is not. I’ve worried about her being neglected or just ignored, overshadowed by her big sister with her big demands. I’ve worried that our oldest will ask for everything she needs and get it, while our youngest will ask for nothing. This in mind, I’ve started spending “a shoe minutes” with our youngest at bed time as well. I’ve started rubbing her back and saying, “You are good. You are kind. You are smart. You are amazing.” I love how she looks back at me and smiles. The second night I did it, she said, “Thank you, Mommy.” The third night I did it, she kept saying, “May-zehn!” (her word for “amazing”.) Now, when I lean over her in the crib she says, “Ah-may-zen”. All I can think is, “Yes, yes you are.”
As with all things in the world of my 3-year-old, not every day is compliant or predictable. One thing I’ve found though, no matter how many times we’ve butted heads or cried or yelled, is that this time at night is special. She doesn’t always want to say the affirmations, but she allows me or daddy to say them and I find it rather healing. Looking into my incredibly strong, fiercely opinionated daughter’s eyes at the close of a day and telling her, “You are good. You are kind. You are smart. You are amazing,” makes me feel renewed and she keeps her hand on her heart, pondering each phrase. I do encourage the use of affirmations in your own life, but I especially encourage the use of them in your children’s lives. Speaking such goodness over them is uplifting and I believe paints a picture of how we see them and how they can learn to see themselves.
As with all things in the world of my 3-year-old, not every day is compliant or predictable. One thing I’ve found though, no matter how many times we’ve butted heads or cried or yelled, is that this time at night is special. She doesn’t always want to say the affirmations, but she allows me or daddy to say them and I find it rather healing. Looking into my incredibly strong, fiercely opinionated daughter’s eyes at the close of a day and telling her, “You are good. You are kind. You are smart. You are amazing,” makes me feel renewed and she keeps her hand on her heart, pondering each phrase. I do encourage the use of affirmations in your own life, but I especially encourage the use of them in your children’s lives. Speaking such goodness over them is uplifting and I believe paints a picture of how we see them and how they can learn to see themselves.