Friday, March 9, 2012

Love lessons and mom guilt . . .


I was driving to work earlier today thinking about lessons.  Lessons I am trying to teach my kids and lessons I am learning from my kids.  Parenting lessons.  We don't sign up for classes and get a grade that says “yay!  You're now qualified to be a parent.”  Doesn't work that way.

We are blessed with, if we're lucky, an example of what good parenting looks like, but sometimes not even that.   I have been gifted with an awesome set of parents and two amazing sets of grandparents, but I only get the end result.  I can see where my own parents are today and that they made it through all our younger years.  And my grandparents, I can see the results with aunts and uncles and cousins.  I didn't get to watch from an outside perspective how my parents dealt with us.  And my kid brain that was and my mom brain that is are two completely different things.  To try and reconcile the two would be impossible.

So how do I impart on my children the things they need to know?   They are each so different in how they take it in.  For instance, my almost five year old son, Ryan, completely tunes me out after the first six words are out of my mouth.  I'll be trying to explain why he needs to be kinder to his sisters and he'll look at me and tell my hair is soft.  Huh?  My Ava just makes goofy faces and has now learned how to roll her eyes.  Great, just great.  Ella is uber-sensitive and I have to choose my words very carefully, otherwise, I'm dealing with tears.  Ugh!

I love them dearly, all their responses and reactions.   How I deal with each can leave me with a hefty dose of guilt though.  Mom guilt.  The kind of guilt that has me questioning any and all responses and reactions over and over and over.  Am I doing this right?  Are they getting it?  Are my expectations too high, they're still very young?  I can be their friend later, right now, I have to be their mom.  And no one ever said being a mom was an easy job.  Nuff said.

So guilt aside, am I getting it right?  Most of the time, I hope so.  Every once in a while there is a moment when one of them speaks and I realize they are using my words.   Wow!  It's working.  I am getting through and they are retaining and using it in the context of the situation they're in.   Be calm my heart.  It's so hard to not jump up and down cheering.

And so there it is, the love coming through.   I love them, therefore I teach them.   To be respectful, to themselves and to each other, and to those around them.   To be thankful and grateful, for what they have and to share what they can with others who do not have.  To be kind.  To be kind.   To use words not as weapons, but as tools.  To build up and not tear down.  So many other things to teach and learn, and we'll get there.

With my heart wide open, I love my kids.  How could it possibly be any other way?   I am so grateful to have them, precious gifts that they are. 



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