One of the best parts about motherhood (besides those adorable little humans) is the tribe you become a part of. There are so many opinions, perspectives and lifestyles, but one thing ties us all together - we're all raising children. I LOVE meeting inspiring mamas in real life and online, and am so blessed to have gotten to know Holly from @EatLiftRunYoga. If you want someone to follow who posts really thoughtful and REAL posts, Holly is your girl. She is SO strong, she never gives up, and she does some pretty sweet yoga poses in beautiful places! I'm so excited to have her guest post here today, about something that honestly had never really crossed my mind, but is SO VALUABLE. It's become a real mindset-changer for me.
She is such an amazing example for her son and has a lesson to share that can help all of us!!
Thanks Holly, for being a part of the i am STRONG like MOM community!
She is such an amazing example for her son and has a lesson to share that can help all of us!!
Thanks Holly, for being a part of the i am STRONG like MOM community!
Photo: https://www.instagram.com/eatliftrunyoga/
I've learned something in just shy of four short years of parenthood.
Words matter. And not in the way you're thinking as you read that sentence.
A dawning realization about change hit me one evening while I was at the playground with my son.
"I'm gonna do a pull-up!" He told me as he raced for the fitness cluster at the playground down the road from our house.
I stood there for a second, and immediately noticed that he didn't say that he was going to try to do one. He said he was doing one.
I watched him, as he hung from the bar, swinging back and forth, trying to do something he has seen me do before so many times. I stepped in, and showed him how momma did it, told him to hold on tight and use all of his arm muscles to pull himself upward, like he wanted to give the bar a hug and a kiss.
Then, I asked if he wanted any help, and he said no (he definitely gets that from me). Some more failed attempts later, he looked at me and said: "Next time."
No try. No can't. No stalking off in defeat.
Walking home, it clicked. He’s never heard me say can’t, try, or any other defeatist words when I’m talking to him.
Even that moment, when I was showing him how to do a pull-up. I didn’t say for him to try and pull himself up, I basically, told him to do it. Like he could.
When I'm working out, doing a yoga flow, or even running, I'm always telling him "Momma is going to do X, then we'll play for a bit/go do dinner/etc..."
Even one day, at the beach when I toppled trying a crown supported headstand, and he asked if I did it (meaning, did I do what I said I was going to do), I answered by telling him I did a very dramatic somersault. I didn't say I didn't accomplish what I said I was going to.
That night, long after he went to sleep, I started searching for when the change in dialogue within myself had taken place. I remember when I first set foot in the gym, almost 20 years ago now, that I did have that defeatist vocabulary.
There were lots of instances where I’d say “I can’t do that”, or even so drastic as “I won’t be able to do that, I’ll die!”
Then the shift happened in those early years, as I dug my heels in. I suddenly tackled everything head on. I was going to do it. Even if it took several attempts. Maybe not today, but I was going to do it.
Changing the dialogue, shifted my mental outlook. And now, I’m passing that tool on to my son.
And I didn’t even realize it until that moment at the playground.
Those words, sinking in, as he went for that cluster of bars, made me see that, even though he pretends to not hear me most times, he is listening. He is paying attention to pretty much everything I say.
And it is changing his own internal, and external dialogue.
Removing those barriers that come in the simplest form: words.
Now, I find myself, frequently, clueing into his tiny little conversations with his squishy friends, or when he is playing cars, hearing his tiny imagination hard at work.
And those words aren't there either.
"You can do it Rocky! We can help!"
"I'm jumpin' the bridge Rogi!"
No "try". No "can't do it".
He's doing it.
If not today, tomorrow. Or next week.
Words matter.
Words matter. And not in the way you're thinking as you read that sentence.
A dawning realization about change hit me one evening while I was at the playground with my son.
"I'm gonna do a pull-up!" He told me as he raced for the fitness cluster at the playground down the road from our house.
I stood there for a second, and immediately noticed that he didn't say that he was going to try to do one. He said he was doing one.
I watched him, as he hung from the bar, swinging back and forth, trying to do something he has seen me do before so many times. I stepped in, and showed him how momma did it, told him to hold on tight and use all of his arm muscles to pull himself upward, like he wanted to give the bar a hug and a kiss.
Then, I asked if he wanted any help, and he said no (he definitely gets that from me). Some more failed attempts later, he looked at me and said: "Next time."
No try. No can't. No stalking off in defeat.
Walking home, it clicked. He’s never heard me say can’t, try, or any other defeatist words when I’m talking to him.
Even that moment, when I was showing him how to do a pull-up. I didn’t say for him to try and pull himself up, I basically, told him to do it. Like he could.
When I'm working out, doing a yoga flow, or even running, I'm always telling him "Momma is going to do X, then we'll play for a bit/go do dinner/etc..."
Even one day, at the beach when I toppled trying a crown supported headstand, and he asked if I did it (meaning, did I do what I said I was going to do), I answered by telling him I did a very dramatic somersault. I didn't say I didn't accomplish what I said I was going to.
That night, long after he went to sleep, I started searching for when the change in dialogue within myself had taken place. I remember when I first set foot in the gym, almost 20 years ago now, that I did have that defeatist vocabulary.
There were lots of instances where I’d say “I can’t do that”, or even so drastic as “I won’t be able to do that, I’ll die!”
Then the shift happened in those early years, as I dug my heels in. I suddenly tackled everything head on. I was going to do it. Even if it took several attempts. Maybe not today, but I was going to do it.
Changing the dialogue, shifted my mental outlook. And now, I’m passing that tool on to my son.
And I didn’t even realize it until that moment at the playground.
Those words, sinking in, as he went for that cluster of bars, made me see that, even though he pretends to not hear me most times, he is listening. He is paying attention to pretty much everything I say.
And it is changing his own internal, and external dialogue.
Removing those barriers that come in the simplest form: words.
Now, I find myself, frequently, clueing into his tiny little conversations with his squishy friends, or when he is playing cars, hearing his tiny imagination hard at work.
And those words aren't there either.
"You can do it Rocky! We can help!"
"I'm jumpin' the bridge Rogi!"
No "try". No "can't do it".
He's doing it.
If not today, tomorrow. Or next week.
Words matter.
Thanks again Holly for your wisdom and friendship! Be sure to follow her at EatRunLiftYoga!
