Q and A: How Do I Apologize to My Child Without Losing Authority?

Parents often feel trapped by these situations. Everyone makes mistakes, even parents, and everyone needs to apologize once in a while – not only because it’s the right thing to do, but because it helps the person doing the apologizing move on, too. But it seems trickier when a parent needs to say, “I’m sorry.” They know they’re wrong, but they’re afraid that their children will think less of them if they realize that Mom or Dad can be wrong.

Let’s set those parents at ease — your kids already know that you can be wrong. They’ve seen it plenty of times before, and they know that they’ll see it again.

What makes the apology important is that you’re role-modeling how to handle such a situation for your children. Remember the old phrase: they may not always listen to what you say, but they’re always watching what you do. If you’d like your children to be accountable and take responsibility for what they do, there’s no better way to teach them than to model it yourself.

The basics of apology apply. Explain what you did (in an age-appropriate way), why you were wrong, how you understand that it affected the child, what you’ll do to try to keep from doing it again, and (if appropriate) what you’ll do to right the wrong. Once you’ve done that, stop beating yourself up and move on. Remember, you don’t want to teach kids that they have to carry a mistake forever.

Don’t worry about your authority being compromised. The kids will see you as responsible, accountable, and fair, and that’ll increase your authority in the long run.

(Carl Grody, LISW-S, specializes in family therapy in Worthington, Ohio. He’s a trained group leader in the Incredible Years parenting program, and he’s available for in-person and online sessions. He’s also published 13 books, including 12 books for children.)

Advertisements

New Year’s Resolutions: Ripples, Not Splashes

I’m writing this on January 4, which means many of you have already given up on your New Year’s resolutions. If you’re still following through, I give you credit, but I don’t want you to be disappointed if and (probably) when you throw in the towel.

I know that sounds awfully pessimistic, especially coming from such a solution-oriented guy like me. But you’re not the problem. I know you can make positive changes. I see clients do that every day in my office, and I believe positive change can happen for you, too.

The problem is that the idea of a New Year’s resolution dooms you to fail at it. Rarely does someone pick a small resolution. They pick things like losing 100 pounds, or cleaning and keeping their house clean before it teeters over that fine line into something you might see on “Hoarders,” or getting a new job that will triple their salary, or … well, you get the idea. It’s almost impossible to follow through with changes like that. They’re just too big. Big changes are daunting, even overwhelming, and it’s easy to give up quickly because the task seems so hard.

I use a lot of scaling with clients – you know, “On a scale of one to 10 …” During our first sessions, I always ask scaling questions to assess where clients are and where they want to be. Predictably, most of them say they’re at one or two, and they want to get to 10 as quickly as possible.

It always takes a few seconds for them to answer when I say, “Given that you’re at two on a scale of one to 10, what would it take to get to three?”

The key to lasting change is to target small changes, not big ones. Imagine throwing a rock in the water; the ripples are small at first, but they keep expanding. Small change leads to bigger change in the same way.

For example, let’s say a parent wants to pay more attention to his child. I’d help the parent target a small but specific change — for example, asking his child once each evening about his day. That sounds small and insufficient, but as the parent has success, he feels more comfortable to ask at other times. The child might recoil at first because he’s not used to being asked about his day, but as he gets used to it, he might start volunteering more information. Soon, they’re talking naturally in a way they never imagined – all because they started with one small change.

I once met an accomplished novelist who said she didn’t know how to write a book. She didn’t believe that she could write so many words or imagine a plotline that could hold up over the course of an entire novel. “But I know how to write a chapter,” she said. “When I’m done with that, I still don’t know how to write a book, but I know I can write another chapter. After I’ve done that 20 or 25 times, I realize that I’ve written a book.”

New Year’s resolutions are exactly like that.

(Carl Grody, LISW-S, specializes in family therapy in Worthington, Ohio. He’s also a trained group leader in the Incredible Years parenting program. For an appointment, call 614-477-5565. In-person and online sessions are available.)

A Diagnosis or a Drum?

I’m always reminded of an elementary music teacher this time of year. Her name was Miss Lilly, and I remember her during the holidays because she conducted our elementary school choir when I was just a young’un. The only song I remember singing in that concert was “Silver Bells,” but it reminds me of her every time I hear it.

Miss Lilly was more than just a music teacher, though. She was also the first teacher that I remember helping me deal with my behaviors rather than labeling me for them.

In this world of categorizing kids into neat little packages that require medication, there would’ve been teachers who tried to label me with ADHD. I did exhibit some of the symptoms – hard to sit still sometimes, often bored in class, lots of drumming my fingers on tables and cracking my knuckles and talking in class when I shouldn’t. In today’s school environment, there would be a rush to diagnosis me with something and then throw medication at me to make the teachers feel better about having me in their classrooms.

I didn’t have ADHD, by the way. I didn’t have anything that you’d find in The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (that’s the book that therapists use to diagnose people). I simply had “little boy’s disorder” – in other words, I had a lot of energy, I was bored at school, and it was sometimes a struggle to get through the day.

Miss Lilly saw that. She was big on noticing the “little things” and making you feel important as a result. For example, she drove a brown Dodge Duster that she’d pretend to race with us as she left school for the day. Another example was that Christmas concert mentioned earlier. Each child dressed up as a different country, and I really wanted to be the United States. I don’t know for sure, but I think she knew that because on concert night, I stood dead center wearing the red, white, and blue hat and scarf. It was a little thing on her part, but it made me feel special.

The most important thing Miss Lilly did for me was the first thing I remember her doing. I don’t even remember the topic of the class, but I was drumming my fingers on my desk, on the counter, on the wall, and maybe even on the people near me. Instead of confronting me, Miss Lilly calmly walked over, handed me a pair of drumsticks, and went back to teaching. No lecturing. No embarrassing me in front of my friends. No long, drawn-out conversation about being respectful and not distracting my classmates and what the heck was wrong with me and I must need medication. Just a simple, gracious action to help me make it through class.

That’s one of the reasons I don’t immediately diagnose children when they come to my office – because Miss Lilly was shrewd enough not to jump to conclusions with me. In so many cases, there’s no disorder, just a kid acting out because there’s a logical reason for it. Figure out what’s making the kid choose the behaviors you don’t like, and then you can help make changes. If it turns out there’s a real disorder, we’ll deal with that, but let’s make sure there’s not another reason for it first.

Miss Lilly taught me that simply by handing me a pair of drumsticks.

(Carl Grody, LISW-S, is in private practice in Worthington, Ohio. He specializes in family therapy and is a trained group leader in the Incredible Years parenting program. For an appointment, call (614) 477-5565; online sessions may be available. He’s also the author of 13 books, including his latest, “Since Before You Were Born,” which is a collection of humorous stories based on his childhood. It’s available at http://www.amazon.com/Since-Before-You-Were-Born-ebook/dp/B00EHT3B5G)