I have been in a parenting role for more than two years now. Truth be told, I never expected to be a parent but in my huberous I thought I’d be the type who would let my children be free spirits. Life would be one great big beautiful experience. I would let my children make their own mistakes and be there to gently guide them. I would be honest and communicate everything. I would use humor. I would laugh with them, play with them and hold them close … always.
I work in youth development. I’ve been the favorite camp counselor. Kids love me. Yes, I was that arrogant and naive.
The philosophy of parenting is not the reality.
Some days I don’t really like the type of parent I am with the girls. The first time I said “because I said so”, I died a little inside. I raise my voice way more than I want. Despite every intellectual instinct to let them have life experience and to let them fail, I actually stop them from doing things just so I can avoid the predictable outcomes. Peace over natural consequences. Sometimes the sheer noise of them makes me want to walk into my room, shut the door, and shut them out. I remind myself hourly that they are 6 and 8, but sometimes it doesn’t help. When I have to say brush your teeth for the 8th time in 20 minutes, I literally want to bang my head into a wall. Other times I do things that have my feelings so conflicted I have no idea if I am right in doing them. Like the times when I don’t hug one of the girls when she needs it just because I think it will help her to be better at taking care of herself. I am ashamed to have caught myself more than once manipulating the girl’s need to please just to get something done. The hardest thing for me is that I can’t tell them there is no way they can ever be treated the same. It’s impossible. Yet they expect it EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. sigh.
I fail daily. As an individual responsible only to myself, I was used to this. As a parent, it kills me because I think I am ruining them.
Unfortunately Fortunately, there is nothing in the unwritten rule books that says what kind of parent you have to be.
There were so many models of parenting I witnessed growing up…my own parents and my friend’s parents. For me, the emotional connection I had with my grandparents and my mother played the most significant role in my life. My grandmother, who died when I was young, is someone I have easily idealized. My grandfather raised me through my teen years. I’ve never met my genetic father, but I had a wicked, drunk, and emotionally abusive stepfather for a few of my formative years. I had a mother who made me rely on myself maybe too much. But through them, I gained valuable experience. My grandmother taught me love and joy. My gramps’s stoic nature was a comfort, and he gave me the gift of knowing I could rely on someone. My stepfather taught me to be cautious with crazy people. My mom gave me a number of self-reliance skills. I can say without hesitation that these are fundamental parts of me that I would never give up just to have been raised with a different parenting style.
I won’t say if I had it good or bad because, for me, that just isn’t realistic. I can’t say if my friends had it, good or bad. Each person has to own that. I learned early on that there are as many types of parents as there are kids. Not one single one was the same as another. As an adult, I know we all get our strengths and weaknesses from this experience of growing up. To give any of it away is unthinkable. So, I am certainly not the kind who thought I would do it better than my parents. But I still thought I would do better. People do it every day from every pulpit, but for me, no one can say, “What is better?”. My experiences made me, and for the most part, I really like me.
However, if I am honest, I don’t want these girls saying one day that they would do it differently than I did. I don’t want them to think they could have had it “better.” It’s cliche, but if they are to be happier with me as a parent, then I must be happier with me as a parent. This has inspired me to improve each day. That’s why I must remember to be honest about every misstep. I must experiment and try new things, especially when the last thing failed miserably. Old patterns die hard, but they must. This is why I must find a way to be more patient. I need to choose kindness EVERY TIME. Most importantly, for my sanity, I must find a way to let them know I will parent them differently. This had got to be my way. They are not the same person. Each one has a unique personality, unique emotional needs, and a unique motivation. I hope this experimentation in parenting doesn’t ruin us all in the trying.
I will fail daily.
Dixie's Road Trip 