Life and Other Stuff

“Mom, I think we are weird. Like we are a weird family,” my daughter declared to me in the car on the way home from school. Laughing, I asked for clarification. She went on to explain that her friends’ anecdotes of their life at home and relationships with their parents were not the same as ours. I smiled, and nodded, agreeing that we seem to be odd, or minimally different. “To each their own,” I mused as I made our way home, listening to her explain bits of conversations she’d had as they all compared family notes.

“They don’t joke with their parents. Like at all,” she marveled. “How do you not have a sense of humor? Farts at the very least are funny!” I laughed. Bodily humor for the win! We are raising these humans with the hope that they will be people we actually WANT to hang with as adults. Isn’t that the goal? Do we have parenting goals? I don’t know if other parents analyze their parenting in the way we do. Maybe it’s a generational thing, or just a quirky me thing, but evaluations of my role as a parent are ongoing. Probably for life.

There are no real manuals for parenting. Of the parenting how-to books I’ve read (and I’ve read a few) half of them I’ve wanted to chuck into the nearest dumpster. Lots of experts claiming knowledge and degrees and the latest parenting theories, much of which didn’t make sense to me. The only thing I am an expert on is what works in my family, what didn’t work, and what felt the most peaceful and joyful in the long run. Every parent and child pair is different. As of this moment, my kids are 14 and about to be 16. (Parents of older kids, feel free to laugh!) There are things we’ve yet to navigate, but here’s what I know so far.

As our kids have made friends and we meet other families, many people don’t seem to like their kids very much. Conversations with other moms will typically enter into a comparison, (much like that of my daughter’s) an airing of “dumb things spouses/kids do” or “humble brag of kids’ achievements”. Sure, most love their kids, but seem caught in the details of undesirable choices/behavior, that then translates into talking them down, saying things they would never say to their faces in the same way. I’m not talking bout family stories where boneheaded things have been done that we all laugh about now….this kind of chatter goes deeper. It’s in the cutting remarks. There can be a palpable bitterness. It makes me think of words overheard in the grocery store; the angry tone and outright threats when a kid say, throws a tantrum. Do we like our kids as people? Or do we just simply get mad at them because they aren’t behaving in ways we would like and feel out of control or embarrassed by their behavior or choices?

Trying to control a toddler is like herding cats. Anyone that has had toddlers under their care knows this to their core. As parents and caregivers of toddlers, we act more like the bumpers in a bowling lane, guiding the slowly rolling ball to its destination. Hopefully, we can successfully get the small child to the next bed time without injury or maiming of any family pets. Behavior is not the most important thing. The relationship is. Relationship > behavior every single time. Behavior is the result, good or bad. If a kid is throwing a tantrum, are they tired? hungry? having a bad day? The behavior is simply the result of an underlying situation.

What if when we have a bad day, are hungry, and something angered us at work, we threw a tantrum? On the way home we drove angrily, cutting people off. What if as we arrive at home our spouse lights into us, yelling at us to stop throwing our tantrum, grabbed us by the arm and hit us? Would that dissapate our anger? Would that help us not to feel frustrated at work, or less hungry? Or would we no longer trust the person that is supposed to love and care for us? Kids are the same. Their hunger, their tiredness, their frustrations are just as real to them, as the adult things are to us.

Doesn’t a focus on relationship lead to permissive parenting? Won’t the kid be a spoiled brat? I don’t think so. Prioritizing our relationship doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences to behavior. It’s just a shift in focus. Have my kids thrown tantrums? Of course. Did I hit them? Nope. If they were hungry, I fed them. Sometimes it meant I shopped later, and we attended to the most pressing need at the time. Was it always perfect? Not a chance. Was I frustrated in those instances? Without a doubt.

A focus on natural consequences seems kinder and more realistic. (Knock on wood, but it seems to be working so far.) Later, that looks like letting things play out instead of rescuing kids from their mistakes. That means we don’t call the teacher when a grade is given that the kid complains about, pleading the kids’ case for them. It means we don’t yank the kid off the team if a critical word is spoken to our little sweetie. What happens when we forget our lunch as an adult? We have to eat out or go home for the forgotten lunch. My kids have forgotten their lunch before. It sucked. they had to eat hot lunch. It was gross to them and they didn’t like it, but it was a natural consequence that played out. It wasn’t punitive and they didn’t get a lecture on how they were bad for forgetting their lunch. Stuff happens. If I had time, I could run the lunch over, but that wasn’t always the case. While living at home, they get to see how we react when life gets life-y, and more importantly, practice now how to manage their reactions in their own life.

Reacting to a kids’ report card by berating them, handing out punitive declarations that ‘the phone will be taken away until this grade is improved’ (or other such unrelated punishment) does nothing to empower the kid to try harder. It enrages and frustrates. It certainly doesn’t foster a love of learning. It damages the relationship providing one more example of how the parent is reactive instead of proactive. Further, it creates a negative association with school and learning and ultimately a distance in the relationship. We do not pay our kids for grades. There are no rewards for a job well done, or punishments for “bad” grades. The grades are the result of the work done or not done. The grade is the natural consequence. Our philosophy on this is simple in that we take the long view: We want our kids to be life long learners and critical thinkers. From the time they could understand averages, we taught both how to compute their grades. The teacher isn’t just handing out grades subjectively. We explained how it was all in their control. This planted the seed that they had some responsibility for their own education. They had ownership over their work. To this day, both of our kids love to learn. They are avid readers. They get mostly As. This is not to brag, but simply to illustrate that when a student is intrinsically motivated, the grades will naturally flow out of that. Of course learning disabilities and other factors may come into the equation. Learning is a process. Sometimes a really hard-earned C feels better than an easy A. Ultimately, their worth and their place in our family as loved and lovable is not determined by their school grades. We learn because we like to know things.

My daughter was asked to lie for a *friend* in the event that her parents questioned her about some candy found in her backpack. This kid had a hidden stash of candy in her PE locker because she wasn’t allowed to have candy. Apparently ever. This is one example of many from this particular person. She had expressed frustration at her parents’ rules around clothing, food, friends, etc. She lied to her parents about all manner of innocuous things, to stay out of trouble. If our kids will sneak around about some candy, what happens when the really scary stuff happens? Don’t we want them to come to us? What if they are in a situation that needs someone with a fully-formed prefrontal cortex to intervene? If the kid can’t trust the parent with the smallest of things without fear of reprisal, they won’t trust us with the major life impactors either. Overly strict parents will naturally breed sneaky kids.

If a kid isn’t afraid to be themselves, home is a safe space to land. Home is where you should be able to exhale, leaving the heavy hardness of the school day/workday behind. That “exhaling” of the day – looks in practice like the ability to be vulnerable, to be themselves in our presence. To have a different view on things than we do – but also to be able to express it. How can our kids communicate with us if all they are met with is criticism? How would we feel if our boss treated us they way we treat our kids? How would we feel if our spouse talked to us the way we talk to our kids/teens?

The bumper analogy of toddlerhood persists in earnest in teen land, though instead of yanking the cat’s tail or sticking a finger into an outlet, its navigating social situations, extra curricular activities, friendship foibles and budding romances. Here’s the rub though – we control none of it. Kids are fully formed human beings upon arrival. Adults are all basically 17 year olds who have simply been on the planet longer. Viewing our kids through this lens changes things. They are not empty vessels with which we pour our knowledge and experiences into. They are sponges instead. Sponges that have their own structure and framework, but soak up the water (culture/family, etc.) they are placed in. If the “water” they are placed in is support, respect and a healthy relationship, so much the better!

Lamenting of the passage of time is a common refrain that typically grows louder in September and June as school resumes and graduation looms. The cry of not being ready for a given stage/age of development, the shedding of tears as the kid enters high school is baffling to me. (Again, I’m probably the weird one as it is common.) I’m not wired that way. Is it bittersweet to watch as our kids grow? Sure. But isn’t that our job, to daily work ourselves out of being needed, so that our kids can be fully functional and productive adults able to handle themselves? Isn’t that the assignment? Why the surprise at the passage of time? Maybe if we learn to be present in the moment we are in, instead of always wishing for what was, we won’t need to pine away for the days gone by.

None of this works without me being sober. Getting sober and dealing with my stuff is the main thing that has helped me improve in all my relationships, but none more so than as a parent. My kids don’t really remember me drinking, or even drinking to excess as they were still fairly young when I quit. The idea that parenting is something to be “survived” and drinking is the vehicle with which to do so is, frankly, false and a genius marketing strategy. I bought into it, too. The exhaustion of early parenting days in particular can forge beautiful friendships when you’re all in the trenches together. Community is vital to us as moms. Add in alcohol to ease those social anxieties and it seems like a genius way for awkward people like me to ease into that engagement.

When that ‘wine at the park meet up’ migrates to child-centered places in a wider cultural context (Hello drinks at DisneyLand), it sends a message to our kids whether we intend it or not. Parenthood is something to be endured. It’s a slog and only this elixir will help us make it through. As a kid, you hear that your parent thinks raising you is something to be endured like a chore one dreads. While this may not be the message intended, it’s the one getting through. I never want my kids to not be able to rely on me. Giving up drinking, though not easy, helped me align my values and prevented me from being a hypocrite when I would eventually ask my kids not to drink.

If instead, we view our kids as people that come THROUGH us, as opposed to little reflections OF us, we wouldn’t be shocked to learn that they have differing opinions on any given subject, or the passage of time wouldn’t be so jarring. They are their own people, not our possessions or mini reflections. Kids are not our measuring stick on the perfection scale.

They are their own people.

They are on a journey of their own, in which they are the main character. As parents, we are the extras in this film of their life.

Popcorn, anyone?