Of course I use a passive-aggressive voice, I wouldn’t have any friends if I used an aggressive voice.
The following is a common saying in our household.
How do you eat an elephant?
One bite at a time.
Well today we modified this saying.
How do you eat an elephant made of chocolate?
One bite at a time – one bite every day.
Why the change?
First, chocolate seemed much more pleasant than thinking of eating a real elephant. Second, to make it through something as big as an elephant, one needs to be consistent in the task. Eating too much too fast can bring on all sorts of complications. Taking too large of breaks between bites could cause problems as well.
So when you have an elephant of a task to tackle, daily bites will get the job done. Plus it never hurts to eat some chocolate along the way.
Do I accept the quiet of my mind, or do I try to form a thought? I think I will allow the quiet to win…
Don’t put me on your imaginary pedestal. I am more than capable of imagining one for myself.
It seems no matter how hard parents try, youth will dabble with risky behavior. Never having been one to enjoy scary movies, this tendency has baffled me. Living on the edge and taking risks for any reason is just not part of my nature. Sure, in my 20’s I sometimes drove too fast, drank too much at parties, went running in areas many felt were unsafe, and pushed myself unceasingly to achieve a goal, but none of these actions were done for the thrill of danger or out of rebellion. I was aware of the danger involved in my risky behavior and chose to take the risk, often in a need to prove something to myself rather than to others or for any kind of thrill. In truth dangerous behavior makes me uneasy, anxious and rather ill, but for others it can be like an opiate.
Venturing into risky behavior is part of the nature of many youth and is not necessarily an indication of bad parenting. Conscientious parents face this reality quite frequently. Some succeed in teaching their youth that such behavior is dangerous. Some, despite their best efforts, do not. Sadly some, through their well-meaning rules, regulations and restrictions, simply delay such lessons until their youth are no longer youth but legal adults.
Life is tough and sometimes in our youth, we make life tougher for ourselves and our parents. Risky behavior is found all around us, encouraged by many in our society, and is a reality of life that is not new to our time in history. Good people, old and young, choose to do foolish things. This makes parenting a tough job, and too often a highly criticized one as well.
I am sure all moms experience to some degree doubt and concern over their job performance. Moms who homeschool their kids most likely experience a larger dose of self-doubt. Unlike other jobs, motherhood does not come with scheduled performance evaluations and job improvement plans. Critical reviews seldom come in unbiased form. “You’re the greatest mom,” in response to some treasure bestowed on your child or, “You suck,” when the treasure is denied, do not adequately assist in self-evaluation. The input of a caring spouse is often no more helpful.
Since my children are nearing the age when my influence will diminish, especially in the role of primary educator, I felt it was time to have a serious evaluation period with them; an evaluation of my performance. This feeling was prompted by an article I read about children repeating abusive language and questioning the idea of whether they could develop such language without having been first exposed to it. The author, having been an abused child, shared some of her own heart wrenching memories. As I too had been a child of “tough love” which often crossed the line into verbal abuse, this article rekindled a deep fear in me. A fear promoted by the news coverage of the early 1980’s which reported that children of abuse would grow up to be abusers.
I don’t like fear, being controlled by fear and most importantly inflicting fear, but as with any human, fear is a part of my life and is a reality. When fear creeps in, I like to meet it head on and address it. So fearing that I may have been too harsh with my criticisms at times, I decided that my children were mature enough and articulate enough to provide me with a job performance evaluation. I was amazed when we were finished, because they could not remember all the times I screwed up, when I yelled too much, or the times I felt like I had used too much discipline. They did recall times when corporal punishment was used, and strangely their memories where not the same as mine. It seems punishing them had hurt me much more than it had them. What they remembered were the lessons they had learned and they were very articulate in their appreciation. When it was all said and done, their reviews of my job performance were pretty good and they expressed compassion over my self-doubt and worry.
In reflection, I began to wonder what made me different from my parents. I grew up knowing my parents loved me and while my father had some real problems that today would be prosecuted, they did try to do their best, at least in my pre-teen years. However, what had been missing were hugs and verbal expressions of love. These were the things, coupled with all my many apologies for my mistakes, I tried to make daily occurrences in our home. Not just bedtime hugs, but hugs when they were doing their schoolwork or the dishes; spontaneous hugs and daily declarations of love. It is amazing what the power of a hug can do.
While I suspect it may be my only “A” grade in motherhood, it is good to know I did not fail in the department of showing my love for my children.