Small actions can have huge consequences, just ask anyone who has ever seen an avalanche. I believe that most problems, like avalanches, have small beginnings. If problems are correctly managed while they are small, then the problems never proceed to the point where they are unstoppably crushing everything in their path. My whole parenting style is based upon this belief. I teach my kids to work now so they’ll already know how before they hit high school. I teach them to manage money now so they won’t be clueless spendthrifts when they have their own incomes. I make very clear that hitting and biting are unacceptable expressions of anger, to prevent having a violent teenager or adult.
It’s a good theory, but the reality is much more complex that what I just described. I just gave the clear cut examples. So many other parenting decisions are more murky. For each decision I try to peer into the future and figure out what the possible repercussions might be so that I can make the best possible choice. Say that Gleek doesn’t want to go to Kindergarten. Letting her stay home may allow her to have a welcome day off so that she’s ready to go back the next day, or it might teach her that school is optional and she can get out of it if she throws a big enough tantrum. If I make her go to school she might settle in and have a great day, or she might be angry and resentful all day long, causing difficulties for her teacher and classmates. Which is the right choice? I can’t tell at the moment of choosing. All I know is that the choice takes me irrevocably down one branch of the possibility tree. Tomorrow I may be faced by exactly the same choice, but I will be in a slightly different place because I’ll have yesterday’s choices behind me as a precedent.
Patterns matter more than incidents. I’ve said that myself many times as I try to come to terms with an unpleasant event. I believe it is true. A single incident of leaving Gleek with her teacher and walking away while she cries for me, does not carry as much weight as the many days when she trips off happily to school. BUT if the incident is big enough or traumatic enough, it will be remembered. This is particularly true with younger children who thrive on patterns, but remember incidents. We all create stories about our lives based on the things we remember. What if the only memory that Gleek retains about Kindergarten is being abandoned there by her mother? What will that older Gleek tell herself about her Kindergarten experiences? So incidents do matter. I can’t let incidents just stand by themselves. I have to talk them through with the child. I have to try to make sure that the conclusions which the child draws from the incident are ones that will give the child good options for the future. But even talking over incidents is a choice with possible repercussions. Kids don’t like to be talked or moralized at. They may choose to shut me out and limit my power to influence their thoughts.
Then there is the case where I am deliberately attempting to set up a pattern. Link just acquired a retainer which will help his jaw grow a little larger to fit all of his teeth into a neat row. From where I am standing, this seems the best possible choice for him. But I can’t deny the possibility that there may be a variable that I can’t see from here. Perhaps growing his jaw will misalign his teeth, creating a need for braces rather than preventing a need for them. Perhaps the mushiness of his speech won’t go away after a week. Perhaps he’ll learn bad speaking habits from constantly having the retainers in his mouth. Every day I see him put his retainers in his mouth and one or more of these thoughts flits through my head. I watch the retainer go in and realize that I am choosing to let it continue because I still believe it is best. I will probably continue to believe it is best until I’m either proved right or shown to be badly mistaken. Either way the evidence will only arrive after it is too late for me to reverse course.
Every day I make hundreds or thousands of seemingly small parenting decisions. The odds are good that at least some of those decisions will cause me problems in the future. I try to stick to firm trails and watch my step, but it will not be the steps that I’m watching carefully which will bring the grief. I can’t know if I’m doing this parenting thing right until it’s too late for me to go back and fix things. So I live with this gnawing sense of failure because I know it is impossible for me to get it all right. A day like yesterday when I stomp furiously off the path leaves me wondering if I can handle this job at all.
Then yesterday was followed by this morning, when Patches took himself to the toilet sans prompting. Somehow despite my agonizing and self doubt, my kids continue to grow and thrive. They find happiness and achievements that are completely unconnected with anything I say or do. Then I wonder if my actions carry as much weight as I fear that they do. Perhaps instead of watching all my steps carefully I need to look up from my feet, take my children’s hands, and watch the scenery as we walk together.
Some words of wisdom given to me by older and wiser folks
I’m not saying you need all of these, but they are what I based my parenting on.
From an elderly pediatrician: The most important thing you can do is love your child. That will take care of more parenting mistakes than anything else.
Paraphrased from a talk I once heard at church: Never be afraid to admit that you as a parent has weaknesses too. Be an example to your children by showing how them how to handle weaknesses and grow.
This is a hard thing for most folks, but I’ve found it to be very powerful tool with my own children. By admitting my own weaknesses and striving to overcome them, I have found my children to actually have more respect for me than any of their other older relatives, including their dad. They don’t resent me when I ask them to do stuff and mutter things like, “Why do I have to do this, when she won’t?” Because they know that I try and I can’t do it all alone. I need their help, just as much as they need mine. (Remember I have teenagers.) It amazes me how much slack they will give me that they won’t give Dad or Grandma and Grandpa, because they feel like Mom is honest with them. My word is still law, but it’s considered a just rule by them.
These last bit of wisdom came to me only a couple of years ago, from a psychology professor: Sometimes in life, we don’t have the luxury of the lesser evil. Sometimes our choice comes down to which mistake we are willing to live with. He was talking about being a counselor, but it’s really true in other areas of life too.
Along the same lines is a quote from Madeleine L’Engle’s Walking on Water:
In our daily living the actions we choose, from within our own skins, as the best possible under the circumstances, may well turn out to have been the wrong ones. Something we regret at the time as abysmally stupid may well end up being the one thing needed under the circumstances. We are trapped in un-knowing.
My personal addition, “When everything is becoming too much, I pray that Heavenly Father will guide me and make good use of what mistakes I do make.”
Some words of wisdom given to me by older and wiser folks
I’m not saying you need all of these, but they are what I based my parenting on.
From an elderly pediatrician: The most important thing you can do is love your child. That will take care of more parenting mistakes than anything else.
Paraphrased from a talk I once heard at church: Never be afraid to admit that you as a parent has weaknesses too. Be an example to your children by showing how them how to handle weaknesses and grow.
This is a hard thing for most folks, but I’ve found it to be very powerful tool with my own children. By admitting my own weaknesses and striving to overcome them, I have found my children to actually have more respect for me than any of their other older relatives, including their dad. They don’t resent me when I ask them to do stuff and mutter things like, “Why do I have to do this, when she won’t?” Because they know that I try and I can’t do it all alone. I need their help, just as much as they need mine. (Remember I have teenagers.) It amazes me how much slack they will give me that they won’t give Dad or Grandma and Grandpa, because they feel like Mom is honest with them. My word is still law, but it’s considered a just rule by them.
These last bit of wisdom came to me only a couple of years ago, from a psychology professor: Sometimes in life, we don’t have the luxury of the lesser evil. Sometimes our choice comes down to which mistake we are willing to live with. He was talking about being a counselor, but it’s really true in other areas of life too.
Along the same lines is a quote from Madeleine L’Engle’s Walking on Water:
In our daily living the actions we choose, from within our own skins, as the best possible under the circumstances, may well turn out to have been the wrong ones. Something we regret at the time as abysmally stupid may well end up being the one thing needed under the circumstances. We are trapped in un-knowing.
My personal addition, “When everything is becoming too much, I pray that Heavenly Father will guide me and make good use of what mistakes I do make.”
correction
The pediatrician actually said, “The most important thing you can do is to show love to your child.”
correction
The pediatrician actually said, “The most important thing you can do is to show love to your child.”
Sometimes you freak me right out. I have one child, and he’s two. I know there’s so much coming that I’m not really ready for, but I do learn a lot from reading your thoughts and experiences. When you have your moments of doubt, it’s easy for me to write them off (“she has FOUR kids, etc.”), and they comfort me a little in the knowledge that my freak-outs are probably OK.
That went off the rails, but I don;t know how else to put it.
Here, a story that the last part of your post reminded me of:
An old man and a boy stood on a snowy hill, looking across the pristine white field before them. The boy suggested that the two of them race to the tree that stood in the center of the field. The old man suggested that they attempt to see who could get there not only the fastest, but also with the straightest path. The boy agreed.
The boy went as quickly as he could, looking down at his feet, making sure each and every step was laid as perfectly as it could be, one in front of the other. It was exhausting work, and when he arrived at the tree, the boy was tired. He was discouraged when he noticed that the old man had arrived at the tree first, but was sure that the extra care he had taken with each step would result in the straighter path.
When the two of them turned to look at the tracks through the snow, the boy’s heart sank. His track, despite his best efforts to place every footstep exactly, wandered back and forth, like a confused snake. The old man’s track, on the other hand, was as straight as could be.
“How,” cried the boy, “how could your track be so straight, when you went so fast, and I was so careful?”
“It is simple,” replied the old man, “I looked at the tree while I walked.”
I’m not sure where I read this at first, and perhaps the idea that always keeping you eye on the end goal will get you there sooner and straighter is an idea that will not always stand up – especially in the arena of child rearing – but it’s always stuck with me, and seems to fit with your last paragraph.
/ramble
Sometimes you freak me right out. I have one child, and he’s two. I know there’s so much coming that I’m not really ready for, but I do learn a lot from reading your thoughts and experiences. When you have your moments of doubt, it’s easy for me to write them off (“she has FOUR kids, etc.”), and they comfort me a little in the knowledge that my freak-outs are probably OK.
That went off the rails, but I don;t know how else to put it.
Here, a story that the last part of your post reminded me of:
An old man and a boy stood on a snowy hill, looking across the pristine white field before them. The boy suggested that the two of them race to the tree that stood in the center of the field. The old man suggested that they attempt to see who could get there not only the fastest, but also with the straightest path. The boy agreed.
The boy went as quickly as he could, looking down at his feet, making sure each and every step was laid as perfectly as it could be, one in front of the other. It was exhausting work, and when he arrived at the tree, the boy was tired. He was discouraged when he noticed that the old man had arrived at the tree first, but was sure that the extra care he had taken with each step would result in the straighter path.
When the two of them turned to look at the tracks through the snow, the boy’s heart sank. His track, despite his best efforts to place every footstep exactly, wandered back and forth, like a confused snake. The old man’s track, on the other hand, was as straight as could be.
“How,” cried the boy, “how could your track be so straight, when you went so fast, and I was so careful?”
“It is simple,” replied the old man, “I looked at the tree while I walked.”
I’m not sure where I read this at first, and perhaps the idea that always keeping you eye on the end goal will get you there sooner and straighter is an idea that will not always stand up – especially in the arena of child rearing – but it’s always stuck with me, and seems to fit with your last paragraph.
/ramble
You know, that sounds pretty cool to me. I reckon if you watch the ground too closely you might miss the scenery. However, perhaps you need to look enough at the ground to avoid falling off the scenery when it turns out to be a cliff edge.
Then again, if we knew when life’s precipices were likely to occur, while life might be a bit safer I’m pretty sure it’d be a lot more boring. It’s easy to want to know the future, but if I stop to think about it, the idea of *really* knowing the future is pretty worrying.
You know, that sounds pretty cool to me. I reckon if you watch the ground too closely you might miss the scenery. However, perhaps you need to look enough at the ground to avoid falling off the scenery when it turns out to be a cliff edge.
Then again, if we knew when life’s precipices were likely to occur, while life might be a bit safer I’m pretty sure it’d be a lot more boring. It’s easy to want to know the future, but if I stop to think about it, the idea of *really* knowing the future is pretty worrying.
But it’s a good ramble.
But it’s a good ramble.
Contrary to popular belief, making a mistake and failing are NOT synonymous. And by popular belief I mean mine.
Contrary to popular belief, making a mistake and failing are NOT synonymous. And by popular belief I mean mine.
While I was growing up my mom had undiagnosed depression. It made for a difficult childhood for me. Later on I criticized her (behind her back) for how she treated me. FINALLY, I realized, “SHE did the best she could under the circumstances she was in at the time. She did her best.”
When we were able to talk about it, she said sorry. Then, it was all over and we could have a better relationship.
So, just remember this. Do the best you can do.
If you keep your lines of communication open (which I’m sure you will), then if your kids have a problem with something you’ve done (or didn’t do) they will talk to you about it and you can say, “I did the best I could possibly do. If I did something to hurt you in the past, I’m very sorry.” It works.
If you think you are messing up just say to yourself: “I’m doing my best. If I find out that my best isn’t good enough I can always apologize.”
🙂
Don’t worry. You are the best most thoughtful, machiavellian, planning, and involved Mom I know. Good Job!
While I was growing up my mom had undiagnosed depression. It made for a difficult childhood for me. Later on I criticized her (behind her back) for how she treated me. FINALLY, I realized, “SHE did the best she could under the circumstances she was in at the time. She did her best.”
When we were able to talk about it, she said sorry. Then, it was all over and we could have a better relationship.
So, just remember this. Do the best you can do.
If you keep your lines of communication open (which I’m sure you will), then if your kids have a problem with something you’ve done (or didn’t do) they will talk to you about it and you can say, “I did the best I could possibly do. If I did something to hurt you in the past, I’m very sorry.” It works.
If you think you are messing up just say to yourself: “I’m doing my best. If I find out that my best isn’t good enough I can always apologize.”
🙂
Don’t worry. You are the best most thoughtful, machiavellian, planning, and involved Mom I know. Good Job!
I’m so glad that you and your mom managed to patch things up. I know that caused you pain for many many years.
I’m so glad that you and your mom managed to patch things up. I know that caused you pain for many many years.