What Kind Of Mother Are You?

Seriously, this question has been burning in my mind the past few weeks.  I have been struggling with summer, the lack of structure in our schedule, the growth of the kids, and the loss of my “normal” life.  I have questioned the effectiveness of my parenting style, and even wondered if I need to spank my kids.  Tonight, I read an article about a mother who is trying to change the way she sees herself physically, by seeing herself through her kids eyes.  It was inspiring, the freedom she found by asking her kids how they see her.  I don’t need to do that.  I need the freedom that come from knowing that I’m a good mother.  I mean really knowing.  That doesn’t come from some outside source.  It comes from within.

My kids are honest little critters.  They tell me everything that’s on their minds.  I am trying to find the perfect moment that we can discuss “the filter”.  Until then, I’m just taking every hit they send my way.  Some of the things my kids will say are, “I love you even though you spank me.”  and “I love you even when you don’t buy me (fill in the blank with some junk plastic toy that they will either lose or break within 72 hours of purchase).  They are also good at saying, “You’re getting big mom.”  or  “You look like you’re having another baby, but you’re not, right mom?”  Tuesday, my daughter, who has no idea what I am doing or thinking or feeling, said to me, “You just won’t get up and make my Frozen dress because you’re too lazy.  You want to work on your computer all day and not do anything else.”  That hurt deep.  And I let her know it.  But I also worked on her dress too.

I know some might be thinking that my working on her dress sends a mixed message.  Well, you may be right.  But while I want my kids to speak to me with respect, I want them to be honest, and I want them to know that I want them to have a good life, even if it means home made dresses and bath towels for long hair.  Even if it means doing it when they say things that hurt me, and they don’t understand why.

And so while I’m making that dress, I’m thinking about the way I just sabbotaged myself with the respect thing.  And I’m thinking about the schedule we haven’t been on in two months.  And I’m thinking about all the other ways I’ve screwed up my kids and my authority this summer, by being “relaxed”.  And I just sit there, sewing and thinking and shaking my head; much like I’m doing now, minus the sewing.

I think about the meltdowns my son has, when he is unable to deal with something.  I think about the way Line withdraws into herself.  Both of these reactions can be from the same cause with my kids.  But people see the meltdown as “wrong” and the withdraw as “right”.  Because sitting quietly and having an anxiety attack is perfectly “fine”, while screaming, punching self in face, and crying hysterically are not.

I think about the way I deal with both children.  Equally.  I try to be sensible, calm, and thoughtful at all the same time.  I try to be rational, to not just say no, but to explain why, so that my children do not have to wonder why they can not have or do something.  But even though I am rational, I am not a negotiator.  Some things are not negotiable.  Like when I say no.  They may learn the reason, but they will not be able to negotiate or in any way change the decision.  Because my no means no, and my yes means yes.  And I don’t lie to them.  (Please don’t ask me about Santa or the Tooth Fairy)  I love my kids, and I want the very best for them, especially when it comes to their social and interpersonal development.  I want them to have good lives, healthy lives, lives full of love and happiness, and I know that no amount of material possessions will fill their lives.  Ever.

And so, when they are rude to people, I tell them.  I give them the opportunity to apologize, and sometimes I just plain make them apologize, because I know it makes the other person’s pain valid, and it makes my child think about their action.  It also helps them to know, later on in life, that we affect more people than just ourselves with our poor choices.  When they are wild and running and engaging in not safe behavior, they are given a limit, boundary, and expected to follow it.  And most times they do.  But there are tough times, times that they just simply live on their own field, and they do not want to hear what I have to say.

Those tough times are when I have to allow the sting, as I’ve described in this post.  I do know and believe that children need boundaries, and kids need to know that their parents are truthful and sincere so that they can feel secure and safe.  Kids are funny like that.  They do all sorts of crazy stuff in order to make sure that their parents love them firmly, and that there is some sort of boundary in their big, crazy, unknown world.

From taking a month to “relax” in June, with very little rules and expectations, no bedtimes, no wake up times, no schedule to a “wake up call” in July, where we have been progressively preparing to go back to our “normal” life, to the end of July, where I have feel the need to really bear down and tighten things up around here, I have given my kids this false sense of freedom.  I have not allowed them the luxury of knowing that things are going to be “the same” every day.  And that is frightening for them, even though they can not verbally articulate that, they are doing a great job in their actions.  By crying, biting, hitting, being dramatic, withdrawing, being mouthy, trying to control every little thing.  They are acting out, because their whole world is in turmoil because there’s nothing familiar.

I have been blessed to have put my kids in swim lessons.  The past two weeks, I have been especially fortunate that they take their lessons with a group of teacher’s kids.  At first, I was hyper vigilant about watching my kids, especially Fritz, who, at three, has a penchant for rushing and budging in line, and telling people what they will, or will not, do.  I was mortified when Line was over dramatic and acted like the world was going to end because her class was not “first” on the daily roster.  I felt like all eyes were on me when my kids did anything except stand picture perfect and behave like angels.

But all eyes were not on me.  And my children weren’t any more difficult than any of the other children.  The fortunate part of it all is that these teachers were so wonderful, so understanding, and so friendly about all of my kids behaviors (or lack thereof), and were happy to talk about their tricks and tactics that they used or tried throughout their parenting.  They were friends in the trenches when describing how their children acted at a certain age, and the ways their children have grown.  And I was even able to ask them questions!  Questions are my favorite way to learn, and to bond with other people.  I love learning about how “the other people do it”.

I think about everything when it comes to my kids, and sometimes, I think that I over think.  I mean, I did not question whether I was a good mother when these children were born.  I just took over.  I nurtured them, I breastfed them, I held them, rocked them, sang to them, loved them.  When they were toddlers, I didn’t question it then either.  I put up baby gates, I plugged in those plastic pieces in the outlets, I gave them different foods and offered them new things seven times.  I played on the floor with them, sang to them, taught them their alphabet, numbers, body parts, and how to say please and thank you in sign language until I taught them to speak.  Of course, by toddlerhood, I had some great help in my dear friend and their babysitter, Cassie.  I had help making fun times with them from my family village, and we made great memories too!

It wasn’t until Line was due to graduate preschool that I started worrying about how I am doing in the motherhood department.  When her preschool teacher said that she might not be ready for Kindergarten due to her social skills and her fine motor skills, I started to worry.  Because she is so very intelligent, and I didn’t want to hold her back because she was immature.  But as an early start kid (my birthday is two weeks after hers), I was always “the bad kid”, because I never sat still, I chattered with my classmates so much so that the teacher determined that I was “disruptive”.  It was painful because that reputation followed me all the way to junior high.  And some teachers were not so nice in the way they addressed me, which hurt my feelings and made it hard for me to want to hear what they had to say in lesson time.  I didn’t want this for my daughter, and fortunately, times and teaching methods have changed.  So, I sent her into Kindergarten just as she was, and waited for her to succeed.  She did great academically, of course, as predicted, she was still behind socially.  But her teacher was amazing with her, and in the end, she did just fine.  After all, they are letting her go to first grade!

But in this world, comments are made all the time on news articles and in private conversations about mothers of “less than perfect” children.  Things like, “They need to spank those kids more”, “You know, they let her/him do whatever they want, and that’s why that child has no respect for anyone”, “Why don’t they get her/him into a doctor and get them diagnosed for hyperactivity”, “That kid is a direct result of the lack of parenting in it’s home”  “The parents don’t care about that kid, they let their kid do/say anything he/she wants”  and other things, things I can’t even repeat, because it hurts.  But while it hurts, it also makes me think, and as I’m thinking, I am questioning my ability as a mother.   I never questioned my ability as a mother when I was infertile.  When all my friends and my sisters were having babies and when their kids were growing up (and still are), I never have a problem offering advice and thinking of creative ways to problem solve.  But with my own, it’s like my brain is full of kryptonite!

I wonder, should I not offer explanations as to why my no is a no?  Should I spank them instead of sending them to a corner or time out?  Should I spank them again when the corner or time out doesn’t work, instead of moving them to their room?  When they make me frustrated, angry, or disappointed, should I not tell them, and just spank them?  Because they seem to have no fear of me.  Not that I want my children to fear me (or anyone else), but I would love it if, when I said no, or gave them something to do, that they would just comply.  And then I think about that.  My husband complies to his parents and grandparents, but to no one else.  He never felt peer pressure, and he didn’t feel the need to follow what any of his friends did.  Don’t get me wrong, he certainly did crazy male teenage things, but he was an equal partner in it and not a blind follower.

So there are all these things, these reasons, this data, those quotes from “well meaning” outsiders, and books and experts who all know what the best thing is, and here I am, just muddling along as a mother.  At least, that’s how I’ve been seeing it, until I read that article.  And what I learned from one woman’s attitude about her weight is this:

I am the perfect mother for my kids.  They have everything they need to exist in this world.  They have the start they need to succeed in life.  My children are good people.  They may be ornery and chatty, and they may have a meltdown now and then, but they are good.  They are loving and they are kind and they are thoughtful and they are fun.  I provide them opportunities to run and plan and laugh and listen.  I give them stimulation in music, exercise and relationships.  They have plenty of opportunities to rest and read and listen to stories.  They are hugged and told they are loved many times a day, and when they speak, I listen and respond to them.  I’m not gonna lie, sometimes, after the 500th “Mom” of the day, I have a different sounding “What” response, than when they call me on say, time number 200.  But I still answer them.

I am a fun mom.  I like to pretend, have adventures, show them how to build chair forts and bed forts and how to imagine that the yard is their kingdom and they are the king and queen.  I try to take them to places and give them new experiences and answer their questions about things they don’t know.  We have tickle fights and silly dance parties and we play board games.

But sometimes, my level of fun is not really what they want.  Because I go a little overboard.  Like yesterday at the pool.  I offered to jump in the pool with my clothes on if one of the kids (not my own) would jump off the block into the deep end.  Of course, he did not want to see that, and eventually jumped.  My own kids were so mortified, they absolutely, without a doubt, did NOT want their mother jumping off the block into the pool with her clothes on, and not have a change of clothes, and Line was so afraid I was going to jump with my phone in my pocket, she grabbed it among her near tears pleading.  But the kid jumped!  That was so exciting for all of us in the waiting area, just as it was when my own two jumped!  My point is that I am very much an out-of-the-box thinker, and I am always up to try something new, no matter how crazy it may seem.  It was kind of like that when I tried Love and Logic.  My kids were so weirded out by how calm I was and can be instead of being angry and warning them over and over again until one second, I was done.

And as I think about that article about the mom, changing her attitude about her weight, I am committed to changing my attitude about my ability as a mother.  I am a good mother.  I have two healthy, loving, talented, kind, generous, independent thinking children.  No matter what other people think.  No matter what opinions come my way, I know in my heart that the seeds I’m planting today, these independent, responsible children I’m raising will grow up to be important citizens in their community and world.  Even if there are days when they spill cereal and eat food in the den, even when they are sassy and rude and crabby and tell me I’m too busy to do what they want me to do that exact second.  These kids are blessed to have their mother.  And I’m going to give my best effort to remember that I am the kind of mother who loves her children and tries her best every day to make sure they know that love is not always having your way, sometimes it’s hard, but Love is tough, and it will survive cereal spills and teenage angst and growing up and leaving the nest.  I will remember that I am the kind of mother who loves my kids through it all.  Even when.