Two nights ago, I overheard my daughter consoling my son and something she said to him was like a punch in my gut.
He had gotten in trouble because he was climbing on our end table and knocked a lamp onto the floor. It didn’t break, and no one was hurt, but my husband and I scolded him anyways because we had repeatedly been telling him not to climb. He got upset and ran crying to the other room, followed by my daughter. She is so incredibly overprotective of her brother—unless of course she is the one dishing out the punishment. LOL. As she comforted him, I heard her softly tell him it was going to be OK. And her justification for that was because “she gets in trouble all the time, while he only gets in trouble sometimes.”
Ouch. That truly broke my heart. And made me feel so ashamed. But the worst part is that she’s absolutely right—only not in the way she thinks.
I don’t know what it is about my daughter—maybe it’s because she’s two years older or maybe it’s because she’s always been my “strong” one—but for whatever reason, I tend to be very hard on her. She is such a good, smart, kind little girl, and I guess because of that my expectations for her are high, maybe too high. Not only that, but I see so much of myself in her and that scares the bejesus outta me because I don’t want her to be like me, I want her to be better than me. I think that’s an issue all parents face: How do we raise our children without transferring our own fears and anxieties onto them, while also helping them to become kind, successful, hard-working members of society? When I look at my daughter, I see myself and I unconsciously want to “fix” those parts that I believe are broken—and that’s a lot of pressure to put on a child.
I’ve been through a lot in my 40 years and I know what my daughter’s going to be up against as she grows into a young lady. The world we live in isn’t a kind place, and I want to do everything in my power to prepare her for that. There are so many things I want—and need—to teach her. I want her to be kind and empathetic. I want her to be charitable and have strong morals. I want her to be well-mannered and polite. I want her to be strong and independent. I want her to shoot for the stars. I want her to know she can make a difference. And the only way I believe I can get her there is to be firm, fair, and tough. She doesn’t need me to be her friend, she needs me to be her mom.
But when I hear her say things like that, I realize that I’m clearly handling this the wrong way. Because what I see as preparing her and guiding her and loving her, she clearly sees as some combination of anger, disappointment, and punishment. And that bothers me. Maybe it’s in my tone or my delivery. Whatever it is, though, now that I’m aware of it, I want to make a change—and fast.
After I overheard her with my son, I sat her down and asked why she felt she always gets in trouble, to which she replied, “How did you even hear that?” LOL, you gotta love this kid. She’s honest and feisty to a fault (just like her mom) and I adore that about her. I explained to her that just because mommy and daddy scold her (and her brother), and even yell sometimes, it doesn’t mean she’s always in trouble. Deep down I would like to believe my daughter knows and understands that. I also told her that, as parents, it’s our job to be firm and to discipline so that we can teach and guide her in the ways of the world. Not because we are trying to be mean, but because we love her so darn much, which of course made her smile. Not surprisingly, she happily accepted my explanation, gave me a hug and a kiss, and went merrily on her way to play.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened and her response to it. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe it’s her turn to be the teacher and me the student. One of the most incredible—and beautiful—things about children is their innate ability to bring their parents to their knees in the most subtle, innocent way. To remind us that, even though we have our children’s best interests at heart, we don’t always have the right answers or handle things in the most constructive way. And that we are often blinded by our experiences and our desire to ensure perfection for and in our kids, perhaps to make amends for our past selves. I guess that’s a lesson all parents could learn from, and I’ll happily stand at the front of the line.
I recently wrote a post about allowing myself to stop and reflect on the world around me, and as you can see, that’s one new year’s resolution that I intend to take seriously. Because if I hadn’t been sitting quietly and listening to my children in the other room, I wouldn’t have learned this critical lesson. Through their love and support for each other, my babies are schooling me, and for once, I’m going to put my teacher’s hat aside and listen.