Owning Pink Children

Originally published on Owning Pink

My 5 year-old daughter has been known to wear some outrageous outfits. She has always been resistant to wearing what we chose for her, or taking our input about clothing at all. We have spent many a days asking her to reconsider wardrobe choices, and trying to teach her that she need not place every hair accessory she owns on her head at the same time. A general “less is more” stylist approach I used to take. She is fondly remembered at our local grocery store for wearing snow boots and a scarf in July -- for a week straight. She often pairs multi colors and patterns that make your eyes twitch, and her general “uniqueness” of her self-styled hairdos can’t go unmentioned. After countless negotiations, embarrassing moments and argument with my husband about what we would and wouldn’t allow her to wear in public, our daughter at age 3 ½ finally looked at us and said, “Just let me be me.”

Point taken and lesson learned

I remember immediately thinking that she was right. She was wise beyond her years -- and a great example of how we learn from our children. As I pondered why it bothered me that she didn’t match and sometimes looked down right comical -- it wasn’t about her at all. It was all about me -- and how I felt it reflected on me as a mother. Somehow I used to think that if people saw her outrageous outfits that they would view me as not “in control” of my kids and that I let them do whatever they please. This is not the type of mother I wanted to be at all. I didn’t want to control my children, and I certainly didn’t want to strip their creativity and individuality. I wanted to encourage my kids to make their own choices, to think outside the box and to embrace differences in others. I was embarrassed to admit that my apprehension about letting her dress the way she wanted was out of fear of what other people thought. This was completely out of character for me -- and not something I wanted to model for my children.

On my third date with my husband I remember discussing the type of parents we would be if we ever had children. We laughed as we playfully tossed around scenarios: What if they wanted blue hair? How about if they wanted to be a multi-tattooed rock star, or wear underwear on their head? We agreed that this was all OK by us -- that we wanted to be the type of parents who celebrated our children for who they were and to teach them to own their uniqueness. I knew from this day on that he was a keeper. Reflecting on our parenting thus far, we were consistent with our parenting intention on every other level, but this one. I had to not only let this wardrobe thing go, but embrace it as a wonderful part of my daughter owning herself.

After owning this realization, I had a discussion with a close friend of mine who also has a daughter who (clearing my throat) has her own sense of style. I always admired my friend’s attitude about her daughter’s choice of clothes, so I asked for her thoughts on the subject. She shared a story with me…She too, liked to dress herself with creative flare as a child. She has fond memories of putting a lot of thought and effort into what she considered to be a beautiful outfit. She would walk down the stairs to where her father would smile, and tell her she looked beautiful. She thinks back now, and has comic relief at what she wore to school, church and parties, but one of her fondness memories is her father’s confidence in her ability to chose. To my 40 year-old friend, this is one of her greatest self esteem builders to date. Lesson learned…I had some changin’ to do!

The test

I haven’t said a word about her attire in more then two years. I was certain that upon starting kindergarten, peer pressure would influence her wardrobe choices. My theory was debunked -- and I couldn’t be more proud of her. Earlier this week I witnessed a few girls slightly older than my daughter giving her a hard time about her choice of shoes. They circled her asking repeatedly, “Why would you wear slippers to school?” When the interrogation didn’t stop, and she looked like she was going to cry, I encouraged her by saying, “This is what you choose to wear because you liked them, and thought they were comfortable. YOU DO YOU -- and rock those shoes today!” And she did! She rocked them that day and the next, and the day after that. She didn’t stop wearing them due to a little teasing. When I asked her about the incident, she only said, “I don’t care. I like being different.  I am unique.”  I told her she was my hero!

Three Pink cheers to our creative and confident kids… and for the parents who are teaching them to own it!

Jump outside of your comfort zone

Posted originally on Owning Pink

I am the boss of my fears

I write this post literally sitting on a plane traveling across the country. To many, traveling is a common occurrence, but I have not been on a plane in three years because I hate to fly. Let me back up and tell you that I have three situations that make me horribly uncomfortable: 1) flying, 2) traveling and 3) public speaking. This weekend I am tackling all three, and I am so freaking proud of myself for getting this far.

When Lissa Rankin emailed me to inquire about my interest in a special project with her, I was honored…and super psyched! The project was right up my alley, but  I had 'wrongly' assumed that I would be asked to write an experiential piece, or be interviewed via telephone for my contributions. It wasn’t until after I enthusiastically accepted -- “Sure, I would love to help out” -- that I was given the details of the project by the sponsors: a video shoot in Los Angeles…for which I would need to be physically present… in less than two weeks!

My initial enthusiasm flipped to complete terror. What had I just agreed to? The mere thought of flying made me what to throw up (literally). Impending every trip I have ever been on, the dread and sleepless nights start weeks prior to the actual departure. I am an uneasy traveler to say the least. I pack, unpack, catastrophize all the things that can go wrong -- and have a terrible sense of direction and time -- leaving me lost and chasing my tail everytime I leave for a trip. I like my creature comforts of home. Traveling sends me too far from my comfort zone and I have been known on many occasions to decline fabulous offers of travel if I had to fly or stay away from home for too long.

Although I have always received positive feedback from public speaking engagements, the task is always completed with a bundle of nerves and an almost out-of-body experience to get me through it. When I speak on camera or in front of a crowd, no amount of planning or rehersal makes a bit of difference -- as something takes over and I have no idea or control over what comes out of my mouth! So to say that embracing all three of these fears at the same time has been consuming me for the past two weeks would be an understatement. I have passed up professional growth opportunities because my discomfort was too much for me to handle. I am owning all three of these fears (at least for this weekend)!

Go with your gut

After I committed to Lissa's project, I won’t go on about all of the realistic and not so realistic thoughts I had of everything that could possibly go wrong. Let’s just say that after I had a reoccuring thought of my plane going down in the ocean and drowning leaving my widowed husband with motherless children, I set an intention to stop thinking all crazy! I was either going to apologetically decline the offer, or change my perspective about going -- because where I was currently living in fear was making me nuts! I decided to do it, and to do it completely. I thought back to my initial feeling when the opportunity presented itself. These were feelings of excitement, possibility and pride. I wanted to go back to that place. I couldn’t ignore all the fear, but I wasn’t going to let this discomfort own my decision or me. If going outside of your comfort zone wasn’t such a big and sometimes scary experience, they wouldn’t call it “outside your comfort zone”. It would be called the “warm and cozy zone”. I was damn scared, so I must be doing it right -- I took these natural feelings and started to view them as growth. I was ready to spread my wings and fly.

What works for me

I was very in-tune with this emotional journey. I thought back to previous times in my life of stretching, growing -- and yes, discomfort -- as I went outside of my comfort zone. I felt similarly as I embarked on every major milestone and life event: going away to college, moving far from my family as a young adult, getting married, career choices, starting a family, creating a business, etc.  All of these events had a series of emotional triggers. The pattern, that I haven't unveiled until now, has always worked for me in the end. I love my life, I own every major decision I ever make, and I have no regrets. I must be on to something! I realize that everyone has a different decision making process and an array of coping mechanisms associated with the discomforts of getting outside of your comfort zone. In sharing my process, I hope to inspire someone else to start his or her own comfort zone challenge. Whether you are a baby toe in the water kind of person, or you zestfully jump right in the pool, you have a process that works for you. You just have to discover it.  

My discovered process

• Initial reaction. Go back to your first emotional response.  Was it something positive? Is it still there? Would you do it if you knew you couldn’t fail? If you had a magic wand to make all the fear disappear, how would you feel about moving forward?  
• The “oh crap” feeling. Know that going outside of your comfort zone will elicit some negative feelings. Acknowledge them, and then debunk all of your irrational thoughts. Thank them for being a part of your journey and tell them to get lost.
• Commit-Just do it! What is your heart calling you to do? Don’t just commit in your head, but tell another person, tell everyone you know.  Make a payment, book your flight, register and sign your name on the dotted line -- make it hard to turn back. Keep the energy moving in a forward direction. Pretty soon, you will be owning whatever it was that made you fearful.
• Work out the details as they come. After you are fully committed, details can and will be worked out. Don’t let yourself get bogged down with the details before you are fully committed, as they just add irrational reasons not to do something. Continue to move forward and the rest will figure itself out.

What would do right now if you knew you could not fail? How does it feel if you own up to the fact that growth is uncomfortable -- because you are in fact out of your comfort zone? Do you have a process for working through all the muck and owning it despite your fears?

Wishing you a limitless life, and may your fears take a good ass kicking! 

Photograph is of June Meyers, skydiving at age 90 (Bing)

Heather Sobieralski

My Mama Mojo

Life Coach for Moms

Recovering from a parenting mistake

Posted on Owning Pink





I made a mistake this week. It's nothing new, I make them all the time. My errors in judgment usually come when I am overly tired, I am trying to get something done (other then giving 110% to my children), or I am generally drained from a lack of self-care for the mama. My slip-ups usually come in the form of getting frustrated, raising my voice, or not following through on a consequence out of sheer exhaustion. My mistake this week was a big one though -- one that went against everything I stand for, everything I value in being all me all the time, and everything I try to teach my children about self-love.  

The story

My three year-old son, who isn’t exactly a novice at inadvertently insulting people (because he clearly has no sensors), hurt my feelings this week.  He caught a glimpse of my bare arms, which he hasn’t seen since the weather got cold, and announced, “Mom, your arms are so hairy you look like a man.” He was right; my arm hair was staring to rival my husband’s -- but still, even from a three year-old this comment made me very self-conscious. My mistake? You had better bet that the next day all of the hair on my ape-looking arms was gone. Later that night, my five year- old daughter was cuddling and petting me like she often does and said, “Mommy, what happened to your arms?” It was in this instant I had realized my mistake. I changed my appearance because of a comment someone else made about my body. Bad Mommy. Bad, Bad Mommy!  

While I’m confessing, it is not the first time I have done this. My tactful second child also made a comment about my mustache a few months ago -- which I then got rid of immediately. Are we sensing a theme here? And. while giving a lesson about kindness to a bunch of kindergartners, one especially lovely child raised her hand and asked, “Why do you have a corn tooth?” I bought Crest whitening strips the next day.  But the difference with this arm incident was that I got caught... and now I have to own the example I'm setting for my children.

What did I just teach my children?

I preach about self-love to my children constantly. I teach them that they are uniquely beautiful individuals in the perfect packages in which they came. I was so pissed at myself for not having enough self-love to tell my three year-old to stick it in his ear and embrace my hairy arms. I was even more disappointed that I didn’t use this very situation as a teachable moment for both my children. Did I inadvertently teach my daughter that the first time some stupid boy tells calls her “thunder thighs” that she begins to starve herself? Did I just teach my son that the first time someone makes fun of his nose that he asks for corrective surgery? What I should have said was, “You are right, mom has hair like a champ on her arms -- and I love me just the way I am!” I could have used that moment to talk about tact, accepting diversity, or how he hurt my feelings. But nope -- I was wounded and I messed up.

How To Recover From A Parenting Mistake

In all of my parenting errors, none of them were irreversible. So I chose to use my poor judgment itself as a teachable moment, and recovered just fine. So as my arm hair is beginning to grow back for good, and I am terribly itchy, I pass on to you my technique for recovering from a parenting error from one imperfect parent to the next:

1. Recognize that you were wrong. In the heat of the frustrated moment, or in the throes of panic, we don’t always make the best choices. If something isn’t sitting right with you after the fact, accept and own the fact that perhaps you've made a mistake.
2. Apologize to your children. Not only does this show respect for your child, but it teaches them the powerful tool of apologizing and taking responsibility for their actions.
3. Use the situation as a teachable moment. So you messed up -- now what? The only wasted mistakes are the ones you don’t learn from.  Take this opportunity to talk to your child about making mistakes and that nobody is perfect. Tell your child what you wish you would have done or said. For extra impact, you can role-play it again the “right way.” Your kid will love this part!
4. Reflect on why you reacted this way so you can learn from the experience. Where did this reaction come from? Is there a pattern? Is there something that you need to be calmer and more centered, so that you are better equipped to respond instead of react out of emotion?  The way we feel on the inside deeply affects our parenting.  
5. Forgive yourself and move on. That’s right -- forget about it! If you even completed #1, you are self-aware and concerned about your parenting. Sometimes awareness is all it takes for change. Don't waste time beating yourself up about it and feeling guilty. You will make plenty of more mistakes, at every stage of parenting to mull over.

With you in your parenting journey!

Family, Gratitude and Guilt

Post on Owning Pink

Lessons in unexpected places

We are not church going people, but we attend one time a year for the childrens’ service on Christmas Eve. It is mainly because our kids ask us to take them and we feel a sort of obligatory duty to expose them to church if they are asking. We figure they will listen to the pastor speak about love, kindness and being a part of something bigger then themselves. All good stuff. This year however, it was I who learned the greatest and most unexpected lesson.

It was 3:45 when we discovered that the service started at 4:00 and the church was 12 minutes away. Anyone who has young children knows nothing good can ever come of rushing a child. But…when you have a mom with poor time management, it happens despite the best intentions. We had the typical arguments about going to the bathroom, brushing hair and teeth, changing into the jeans without the gaping hole in the knee, and that wearing a fancy dress without tights in 20 degree weather was not an option. We managed to get to the church at 4:02 with empty bladders, tangled hair, holey jeans, bare legs and some fine fresh breath. I’m all about compromises! 

As we arrived at the church, out of breath, off centered and sweating from the physical struggle of madly wrestling two young children in and out of car seats at the speed of light. I looked around the church at all the put together families. Almost all of them had on their “Sunday bests" --  the women were perfectly put together, the little girls with proper tights and hair bows, and the boys and dads with dress pants and fancy sweaters. I looked at my disheveled clan and thought to myself as I often do, “What is wrong with you? Why can’t you get your family to an event on time and looking presentable -- ever?” Is it that my children just have stronger temperaments then most, so everything becomes a battle of the wills? Is it due to my poor planning and fly by the seat of my pants attitude that seemed to work just fine for the 30 years of my life before children? I started down that familiar road of Maybe I’m just not cut out for this motherhood thing…everyone else does it better. Everyone else looks so happy, why am I so uptight right now?”

Then my self-pity and blame came to a screeching halt.

Beautiful Family

In the middle of my ridiculous thoughts, in walks a family that even now writing this post, continues to bring tears to my eyes again. I saw a mom, dad, a boy about 12 and a girl around 10. They all wore matching Christmas sweaters and Santa hats. The boy was disabled and needed both parents on each side of him to walk him down the aisle. The girl, who appeared to have Downs Syndrome, picked up his hat as it fell off his head when he awkwardly angled to sit in the pew two rows ahead of me. At first I looked away, because along with my familiar road of self-wallowing comes a lot of guilt. I was so embarrassed of my thoughts two seconds prior to seeing this family. And I’m worried about being two minutes late, a couple of knots in my kids’ hair, and some mashed potatoes on my shirt?

I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. The rest of the church was non-existent to me. I didn’t hear a single word of the minister. I couldn’t tell you what songs were sung, and I don’t even know if my own children were behaving. I was hyper-focused on this beautiful family. They sat very close together, I think partially to help the older boy sit up. The siblings were playful with each other. There was a lot of hugging, snuggling, and eye contact between all the family members. The mom and dad somehow managed to connect with each other on numerous occasions by a smile or a loving pat. They sang songs together, they smiled and they looked to be madly in love.

This mom was owning her moment. In this instant, she was owning her life, her children, her family. I do not. I often complain and wish I had easier children, that they slept better, that I had more help, and that I was more patient. I am always working to improve this perspective of my life. Here I was with my two beautiful children next to me, not appreciating them. I was watching this woman, feeling jealous of her and the way she was enjoying her family. Tears were streaming down my face and a nauseating ball of guilt was taking over my body. I felt an overwhelming need to connect with this woman. I wanted to hug her, to cry and to beg her forgiveness for having these ungrateful thoughts. I acknowledged my feelings, pulled myself together and waited for her after church. I slowly walked up to her and said, “I sat two rows behind you and just wanted to tell you that you have a beautiful family. The four of you are so full of love, and you are a wonderful mother.” A little puzzled, she smiled, and only said, “Thank you.” 

The lesson

I thought about nothing other then this family the entire 12 minutes home. I am still thinking about this family. Although they had a profound emotional impact on me, I am still not sure of the lesson. Was it to be thankful for what you have? You are only dealt what you can handle? Was I bearing witness to pure love? Was it that god loves you no matter your bad breath, ripped jeans and tardiness? Was it to teach me the priority in my life? Was I shown this lesson in particular because of my own struggles to find enjoyment and confidence as a mother?

Over the years I have learned to own my less then fulfilling moments as a mother. I found freedom in admitting that I am not a natural mom, that caring for my children is not my main identity as a woman. The guilt for not being super-mom is still there, and I own that too. This is a part of who I am, and I embrace that. But why this lesson on this day? Perhaps this was not a lesson for me at all -- and this mom needed a bit of recognition or encouragement at that given time. Maybe I needed to have this experience to write this post in order to help someone else. I’m just not sure. I would like to say that I have been more tolerant of my children and myself since this lesson, but I haven’t (and yep, I'm owning that too). I do believe this was a powerful message; I'm just not sure what it was yet. 

What do you think? Have you ever had trouble owning the relationship you have with your children? How does seeing other families in action affect your view of yourself and your family? Has anyone else ever experienced a profound emotional experience and wasn’t sure what to make of it? Did your resolution ever come?

Heather Sobieralski

My Mama Mojo

Life Coach for Moms

The Ugly Truth about the Elf on the Shelf

Guest post on Everything Moms 

If you are not familiar with the holiday tradition of the Elf on the Shelf, you will take notice now. It is a concept so simple, yet so ingenious, that you will kick yourself for not inventing it first, (just as you do every time you shell out 5 bucks for a pack of Silly Bands)! This special Elf comes with his own book describing how he is to be placed on a shelf so he can watch your behavior and report back to Santa while you sleep. You will find him again upon waking in the morning, but always in a different spot. Perhaps the most dramatic fact about this Elf is that you can NEVER, EVER touch him, or he will lose his magical power.

This Elf has been working like a charm in our house. The kids really do believe in his magic. They are listening better, are treating each other more kindly, and if they start acting up, all I have to do is point to Will, (that is what they named our Elf) and their behavior instantly changes to sugar and spice. The Elf has also inspired hours of pretend play. The kids dress up in our random Santa hats and Christmas stockings in preparation of sitting like statues in various rooms watching our behavior like little Elf accomplices.

The Elf on the Shelf has brought us great joy in the short time we have known him. But (a BIG BUT...), behind that sweet Elf smile and his cute red suit, lie some ugly truths, which I believe should be disclosed at this time. I love this Elf, I really do, but he has caused a certain level of disruption in our home. He should come with some warning, or caution labels to parents.

• WARNING #1: If your children are of the high strung variety, you may want to skip past (or at least down play) the part about losing the magical powers if he is touched. If not, your 5 year old may frequently wake up in the night at 12, 2 and 4 AM from nightmares that she has touched the Elf and has ruined Christmas.
• WARNING #2: If you have birthed any "early bird" children, you may want to go to bed extra early during the Elf’s holiday visiting time. If your extra spirited 3 year old child can't contain himself, he may very well go from waking at 6 AM to 5 AM just so darned excited that he must bounce out of bed and run downstairs to see where the Elf has moved during the night. He will then perhaps burst from exuberance if he doesn't scream his findings at the top of this lungs (waking up high strung child #1 just as she has drifted back to sleep from all of her traumatic Elf nightmares).
• WARNING #3: If you plan to bring out the Elf in any fashion this holiday season, consider bringing him out later, rather then sooner (December 22nd for instance) Remembering to move him each night (or morning) before the early bird (see warning #2) gets up is a lot of pressure and performance anxiety for both the Elf and parent-especially if you are lacking in impulse control and he came to visit your house on November 2!

Would I use the Elf again next year or recommend the Elf for a friend? You betcha! I would however strongly suggest some story manipulation to make the Elf's visit a bit lower maintenance. If your children are already reading, I would consider bringing your Elf home without the book and make up your own Elf story to fit the unique needs of your own children (and so that mom and dad can get some sleep this holiday season)!

Happy Elf spotting!

photo from Elfontheshelf.com

Chilling Out

My December blogging will be sparse...maybe even non-existent.  Perhaps I will return as usual in January, but perhaps not.  I am taking the season off to chill out, slow down, and create the time to enjoy my family and friends.  I am going to sip hot chocolate, make snow angels, enjoy the holiday lights, cuddle with my husband and play with my kids.  Coaching clients are always more then welcome, but I am taking a small break from the blog.


Stay warm, enjoy life, take extra care of you... and hug your children often!!!


Happy Holidays!!!

Don't tell dad

A guest post on Owning Pink

My five year-old got off the bus visibly upset yesterday. Instead of giving me her usual run-off-the-bus-all smiles-and-giving-me-a-bear-hug, she stomped past me avoiding eye contact and headed straight for the house. When I asked her what was bothering her, she blurted out, “________ cut my hair in art class!” 

Keeping my cool

I’ve braced myself for this moment -- the first time my child would tell me something shocking. I know I am suppose to keep a straight face, don’t judge, ask open-ended questions, stay calm, be caring and concerned -- but support her in solving her own problems. The dilemma was that none of this was working. She had completely shut down and refused to talk to me about it. The only information I got was that she didn’t tell anyone at school and she didn’t tell the boy to stop. Then she said something I really wasn’t expecting: “Don’t tell dad.” I knew this day would come -- when I was asked to keep a secret from my husband, like her first crush, buying her first bra, or wearing lipstick -- but I did not expected it at the age of five. 

Fortunately, she has dance right after school. Most parents have luck talking to their kids while in the car, right? They aren’t distracted, and you can’t make eye contact -- this is where is where it is all supposed to all hang out, right? WRONG! I got nothing again. I let her know that I was so glad that she told me, that I loved her no matter what… but I wanted to talk about how she could have handled the situation differently (being firm with the hair cutter and telling the teacher). Nope, she wasn’t having it! I tried to address the safety issue of the scissors and that she has every right and absolutely should protect her body. All I got was, “Stop taking about it mom!”  At this point I was less concerned about the hair cutting itself and more concerned at her reaction and withdrawal. This is not the child I know.

What other moms would do

My daughter’s dance class is over an hour long and when I am not feeling particularly inspired to go to the gym, I stay and talk with my friends. Today, I needed their advice (a perfect excuse not to work out). When I tell my two friends the story, one immediately blurts out, “My husband would be up at the school in a hot second.” The second one said, “This is a safety issue and it needs to be handled.” (I have great firecracker friends that always have my back!)

After their knee-jerk reaction, they deeply listened to me and realized that I had a trust issue here. I want my children to feel comfortable telling me ANYTHING.  I don’t want my daughter to feel like she can’t come to me without me immediately reacting and calling the school. I want to be the “go to”, and a positive guide in the right direction, but not THE problem solver. If I felt like my child or another child was in danger, then that is very black and white. I would tell. This situation was a grey area for me -- and one that I felt was a test for the future.    

I completed this conversation deciding that I would try one more time on the car ride home to encourage my daughter to tell her daddy and grant me permission to email her teacher. If she refused again, I would leave it alone. Trust trumps the need to inform in this case. My friends still disagreed with my decision, and came to their own conclusions that if this were their kid they would call the school. Being the open minded and non-judgmental gals they are, they tell me to trust my gut and that I know my kid best. 

One more attempt

I decide to try one more time in the car on the way home from dance to talk to my daughter. I attempt to convince her to tell her daddy -- because he would want to know, and to grant me permission to email her teacher -- because she needs to protect the other kids. Bingo! I suppose the endorphins of exercise are a natural mood lifter. She was much more “available”, verbal and clearheaded about what we should do, and what she can do in the future if someone else is invading her body or space. I feel much better that we were able to talk, and that we have a plan. But most importantly, I kept her confidence. I bet she will come to me next time she needs to talk without the fear of me getting all hot and bothered and reacting without her consent.

I do, however, hold strong that I would have stuck with my original decision to do nothing if this is what she ultimately wanted. 

What would you have done? How have you handled the balance between the desire to protect your child and the need to gain their trust?