Paper Hats

We skipped nap time so I knew it was only a matter of time before my cute toddler turned into a tornado. Sure enough around 9pm she started throwing things and her body parts alike. I asked her twice to help me clean up her toys so we could prepare for bed; with each request the thrashing became more powerful. It takes just about two, sometimes three of my ignored requests for daddy to interject with a stern “Teigannnnnn what did mommy say?!” The thrashing stopped but there was no movement. He’d gotten her attention and she’d gotten his. He softened his tone but the sternness remained, “Help mommy clean up your mess.” She obliged slowly, looking over her shoulder waiting for him to notice. I nudged him to look up from what he was doing. He looked at her and said “good job!” She picked up the pace and continued to listen for the remainder of the night.

It was in that moment that I realized, children need validation. Not only of their feelings but their actions too. Validation is defined as “the feeling of recognition from others that you are right or good enough.” If it's our responsibility to teach them right from wrong, isn’t it equally our responsibility to encourage them aka “validate them” with the same force utilized when we instruct and correct?

Unvalidated children grow up to be adults that continue to question themselves, rely heavily on other’s opinions, and/or bottle up the emotions and feelings because “what am I to do with these?”

Recently, I accepted my own need for validation. I find myself often struggling to cope with my own emotions and sometimes relying on the opinions and feelings of others. The realization came when I was furious at my husband because I felt like he failed to be emotionally supportive at a time when I felt like I needed him. But in fact, what I was looking for was validation, not support. I only came to this conclusion when in the midst of my anger and disappointment, I questioned what I thought I needed from him and I couldn’t come up with anything. Now the acceptance? That came as I watched my daughter look back at her father, as she reluctantly complied with his demand that she help me clean up her mess. She was staring at his face searching for his eyes, the loving eyes that would reassure her that she was now doing the right thing and he was proud of her.