Validated

I came to a huge realization a few days ago. This epiphany may revolutionize my life. It may be the turning point between sanity and the nut house. And here it is:

I need a stamp with washable, hypoallergenic ink that reads …“VALIDATED”…

I was driving two of my kids to a class about 20 minutes away. Within 5 minutes, one of them began a conversation that went something like this:

“Mom, I think I have a mesquito bite in the middle of a scar that I got on my knee from a raspberry I got at grandma’s house.” 

I struggled just a bit to follow her train of thought, but was able to piece it together. 

“Oh, wow, that’s a bummer.” A typical “mom” response.

“Mom, look!”….

Now before I continue, I must remind you that I was currently driving our large van and this child was in the back seat…at least 5 feet behind me. 

What I really wanted to say was, “OK, let me switch on my eyes-in-the-back-of-my-head vision and I’ll take a quick look.” But this child is old enough to know better than to ask me to look at something in the back seat while I am driving. So I said,

“You should have thought that through before asking me to look at something while I’m driving.”

To which she responded….“I did!!”

I didn’t say anything else for the rest of our drive because I was trying to wrap my brain around the fact that she thought it was important enough to jeopardize our lives in order to see this bug bite. That is when I realized that what she was looking for was validation. It wasn’t enough that I acknowledged it verbally….And then it hit me!! I need a stamp!! A stamp with big fat letters that says “VALIDATED”. 

This would solve all of my problems!! I wouldn’t even have to speak! 

“Mom, she hit me!!”

*thunk*….. right on the forehead….VALIDATED

“Mom, my foot hurts!”

*thunk*…..….VALIDATED

“Mom, watch this!”

*thunk*…..….VALIDATED

“Mom, I’m hungry!”

*thunk*…..….VALIDATED

“Mom, she took my shirt without asking”

*thunk*…..….VALIDATED

“Mom, its not my turn to do dishes!”

*thunk*…..….VALIDATED

Can you imagine!! 

I realize this system is flawed. I realize I have more responsibility to verbally, emotionally and physically “validate” my children and their feelings. But I can dream, can’t I?