Last week my mommy hackles were raised. I went right into Mama Bear mode, do not pass go.
While reading an article about a couple with autism who were getting married, I came across the sentence that the entire wedding party "identified as being on the autism spectrum." Excuse me? Identified? The journalist's choice of words left me flabbergasted, frustrated and angry. I have fought for my child and for acceptance of him and of autism. For this journalist to minimalize everything my child has been through and how he has succeeded, well, I may have had flames shooting out of my ears. My immediate reaction was that one does not identify as being on the spectrum, one is diagnosed. Autism is not a lifestyle, it is a not a choice. Autism is a neurological disorder, diagnosed only by professionals. By referring to it as an identity, the journalist implied that one chooses autism, and she seriously misled any already uninformed readers of the life altering reality of being on the spectrum. To identify is to say, "I am autism," whereas to be diagnosed is to say, "I have autism, but I am so much more." As Noah's mom, what I interpreted as sheer ignorance left me stunned.
Later, I asked Noah about it. I didn't share my initial outrage, because I wanted to know how he felt about the journalist's choice of words--and he surprised me. His explanation even made sense to me. Noah said that by identifying as being on the spectrum, he's chosen to accept and embrace who he is with autism as a part of him. He didn't think the journalist's statement at all implies that one chooses to have autism. He understands he's more than autism, but autism is a part of what makes him Noah. We both laughed when he said, "I didn't choose the autism life. The autism life chose me!" Noah then mused that maybe by changing the phraseology used, but saying one identifies rather than one is diagnosed, we can even change how the world sees those with autism, and we can normalize it. Noah also said that to be diagnosed feels as though he's been told something is wrong with him, when he knows there isn't. He's not sick, he's not broken, he's just different, and he's exactly how God created him to be. He reminded me of the relief he felt to have a name for it when he was first diagnosed, what a relief it was to find out he's not just "out there weird, but there's a reason for my weird, and I'm okay with that. This is just how I do life."
God says a child shall lead, and in my house, that happens to be true many times. How did I get such a smart kid?
Monday, October 5, 2015
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
PPD
Post Partum Depression.
It's the little talked about side effect of birth that no one wants to acknowledge. Society wants you to believe you're a terrible, unworthy mother if you experience it. You should be happy, excited; yes, maybe a little worn out--but you're got this baby! This wonderful baby you prayed into existence! How dare you have depression and anxiety. Rejoice! Be happy! No one wants to hear about anything other than perfection and happiness. No one wants real.
For some of us, it's situational. For others, purely hormonal/chemical. For another set of us, it's both. Either way, it's not something you necessarily have control over. What you do have control over is how you handle it. It can be an immediate feeling, or a gradual realization that something isn't right. Sometimes it's just a cluster storm of factors, or maybe you were handling everything great until that one last little thing hit you. Some react by denying it, others face it head on. Either way, there's usually guilt and shame. You feel like you're fighting a losing battle, and if you've never experienced it before, you feel like you're losing your ever loving mind. Actually, you might feel that way even if you have experienced it before. If this isn't your first child, you start telling yourself you should have this figured out by now.
I know you can't remember the last time you brushed your teeth. You're still wearing yesterday's clothes that you slept in last night. Your dirty hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. I know it's hard to smile at your giggling baby, and I know it's exhausting to cheer your older children. You feel like a combat soldier waiting for the next bomb to drop. People keep telling you it will get better, it does get easier, and all you can think is, "WHEN???" You start feeling like a failure as a mom.
The well meaning will tell you to rest when the baby sleeps, eat when the baby eats, do laundry when the baby does laundry. Wait, what? Take time for yourself! Take a bath, go to bed early, leave the baby with a family member! Don't forget to shower and eat well! Get those eight hours of sleep! You need a weekend getaway!
The well meaning aren't always practical. Perhaps you work outside the home, or attend online classes, or have other children and tasks and chores and commitments to keep up with. Then there's the baby--who won't sleep through the night, won't stick to a schedule, won't sleep anywhere but in your arms, doesn't want to be anywhere but your arms even when he's awake. Some advice is just not realistic.
So, let's talk about it. Let's take the shame out of it. Let's take the guilt out of it. Let's normalize the issue and take the stigma out of it. Let's talk about it in our bible studies, our moms groups, our churches, our playgroups. Let's be real. Let's save lives by letting each other know we aren't alone. Let's stop hiding.
You're not a bad mom. You are anything but a failure. You're--*GASP*--normal. I know you love your child. You are doing the best you can. Just as every pregnancy is different, every labor and birth are different, so is each postpartum experience. You are not made from a cookie cutter mold. God made you as an individual. Please stop comparing yourself to the Jones' down the street. Guess what? They're not perfect either.
It's okay to not be okay.
It's the little talked about side effect of birth that no one wants to acknowledge. Society wants you to believe you're a terrible, unworthy mother if you experience it. You should be happy, excited; yes, maybe a little worn out--but you're got this baby! This wonderful baby you prayed into existence! How dare you have depression and anxiety. Rejoice! Be happy! No one wants to hear about anything other than perfection and happiness. No one wants real.
For some of us, it's situational. For others, purely hormonal/chemical. For another set of us, it's both. Either way, it's not something you necessarily have control over. What you do have control over is how you handle it. It can be an immediate feeling, or a gradual realization that something isn't right. Sometimes it's just a cluster storm of factors, or maybe you were handling everything great until that one last little thing hit you. Some react by denying it, others face it head on. Either way, there's usually guilt and shame. You feel like you're fighting a losing battle, and if you've never experienced it before, you feel like you're losing your ever loving mind. Actually, you might feel that way even if you have experienced it before. If this isn't your first child, you start telling yourself you should have this figured out by now.
I know you can't remember the last time you brushed your teeth. You're still wearing yesterday's clothes that you slept in last night. Your dirty hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. I know it's hard to smile at your giggling baby, and I know it's exhausting to cheer your older children. You feel like a combat soldier waiting for the next bomb to drop. People keep telling you it will get better, it does get easier, and all you can think is, "WHEN???" You start feeling like a failure as a mom.
The well meaning will tell you to rest when the baby sleeps, eat when the baby eats, do laundry when the baby does laundry. Wait, what? Take time for yourself! Take a bath, go to bed early, leave the baby with a family member! Don't forget to shower and eat well! Get those eight hours of sleep! You need a weekend getaway!
The well meaning aren't always practical. Perhaps you work outside the home, or attend online classes, or have other children and tasks and chores and commitments to keep up with. Then there's the baby--who won't sleep through the night, won't stick to a schedule, won't sleep anywhere but in your arms, doesn't want to be anywhere but your arms even when he's awake. Some advice is just not realistic.
So, let's talk about it. Let's take the shame out of it. Let's take the guilt out of it. Let's normalize the issue and take the stigma out of it. Let's talk about it in our bible studies, our moms groups, our churches, our playgroups. Let's be real. Let's save lives by letting each other know we aren't alone. Let's stop hiding.
You're not a bad mom. You are anything but a failure. You're--*GASP*--normal. I know you love your child. You are doing the best you can. Just as every pregnancy is different, every labor and birth are different, so is each postpartum experience. You are not made from a cookie cutter mold. God made you as an individual. Please stop comparing yourself to the Jones' down the street. Guess what? They're not perfect either.
It's okay to not be okay.
Friday, August 28, 2015
Hope in Front of Us
Life with Avery has been particularly rough lately. I know what's going on, but feel powerless in helping him, in fixing it, in being able to do anything about it. I am merely a bystander--a very tired, worn out, sad, bystander. We are in the midst of ADHD-OCD-ODD hell, and he's only six years old. Our med-eval in two weeks feels light years away. My prayer at this point is that we can hit the nail on the head with the right medication and right dosage the first time. My child needs help. I'm losing hope.
There was a time, before Noah's diagnosis, I would send him off to school in the morning, then wait. I hated opening my email. I jumped and broke out into a sweat when the phone rang. I had to psych myself up to go pick him up. Inevitably, I would get the email from the teacher, the phone call, or be pulled aside at pick up. "Do you know what Noah did today?" "We had another issue with Noah today." "Noah had to be removed from the classroom again today." There were days I dreaded sending him back. With the stress of it all, I lost 45 pounds, and most of my mind. Our marriage suffered, Noah suffered, none of it was ever good.
This is the point we've reached with Avery, now. Each day this week, it's been something new. There was a Category 6 meltdown when I took a different route to school than Shawn takes. A major temper tantrum when I told him he couldn't wear long sleeves. Then he destroyed several articles of clothing, had to be removed from the cafeteria during lunch, was rude to the substitute, homework is a nightly two hour battle--the list goes on. When the counselor pulled me aside yesterday at pick up, it was kind of the last straw. I felt so defeated I couldn't even react. When she asked me if this is fairly normal for him, I wearily shook my head yes. I thanked her for the way the cafeteria situation was handled, collected my child, and left. There are times Avery shows little remorse, and when he does, it's the kind of remorse a person shows only when they know they should, but don't quite feel it. He is indifferent to discipline, seeming to just not care that his behavior has consequences. His self esteem is suffering, and he, my charismatic, usually happy, extroverted child, has not made any friends in school so far this year. He does not appear to understand the ramifications of his behavior, or how it affects his relationships with others. When we put him to bed last night, he asked why I'm sad and I lost it. Crying, I explained that his behavior makes me sad. When he doesn't listen, when he's naughty on purpose, I'm sad.
I've not been feeling hopeful. I'm losing my mind. I am battle weary. I'm gaining weight. My marriage is suffering again, our entire family is in chaos. I don't go to bed at night and rest, I go to bed and think, "It all starts again in eight hours." I lay awake praying the next day will be different. I worry that by diagnosing him, we are allowing him to skirt responsibility for his behavior and actions, then I worry I'm too hard on him over things he possibly can't control. I pray that Scouts and sports will help. I worry that if things are this bad now, what could that possibly mean for his teen years, and I pray we can get to him in time before it comes to that. As with Noah's process several years ago, there are days I want to walk out of the house and just leave. I don't feel strong enough to do this.
I went back in my archives and found some of the posts I wrote during Noah's process, because I just need hope. I re-read several posts, and wow, Noah has come so far in these past five years! I never thought we'd get through it, but we did. I look at where he is now with life and I'm speechless. He gives me hope for Avery. I have to remind myself it is a process. I know we will get through this. None of this will happen overnight. I also have to remind myself that this is part of God's plan for Avery, as it is with Noah, and certainly not the end. Somehow, this will all work for His good, right? God's got this, even when I don't. I don't have to be strong enough to do this, because God already is.
There was a time, before Noah's diagnosis, I would send him off to school in the morning, then wait. I hated opening my email. I jumped and broke out into a sweat when the phone rang. I had to psych myself up to go pick him up. Inevitably, I would get the email from the teacher, the phone call, or be pulled aside at pick up. "Do you know what Noah did today?" "We had another issue with Noah today." "Noah had to be removed from the classroom again today." There were days I dreaded sending him back. With the stress of it all, I lost 45 pounds, and most of my mind. Our marriage suffered, Noah suffered, none of it was ever good.
This is the point we've reached with Avery, now. Each day this week, it's been something new. There was a Category 6 meltdown when I took a different route to school than Shawn takes. A major temper tantrum when I told him he couldn't wear long sleeves. Then he destroyed several articles of clothing, had to be removed from the cafeteria during lunch, was rude to the substitute, homework is a nightly two hour battle--the list goes on. When the counselor pulled me aside yesterday at pick up, it was kind of the last straw. I felt so defeated I couldn't even react. When she asked me if this is fairly normal for him, I wearily shook my head yes. I thanked her for the way the cafeteria situation was handled, collected my child, and left. There are times Avery shows little remorse, and when he does, it's the kind of remorse a person shows only when they know they should, but don't quite feel it. He is indifferent to discipline, seeming to just not care that his behavior has consequences. His self esteem is suffering, and he, my charismatic, usually happy, extroverted child, has not made any friends in school so far this year. He does not appear to understand the ramifications of his behavior, or how it affects his relationships with others. When we put him to bed last night, he asked why I'm sad and I lost it. Crying, I explained that his behavior makes me sad. When he doesn't listen, when he's naughty on purpose, I'm sad.
I've not been feeling hopeful. I'm losing my mind. I am battle weary. I'm gaining weight. My marriage is suffering again, our entire family is in chaos. I don't go to bed at night and rest, I go to bed and think, "It all starts again in eight hours." I lay awake praying the next day will be different. I worry that by diagnosing him, we are allowing him to skirt responsibility for his behavior and actions, then I worry I'm too hard on him over things he possibly can't control. I pray that Scouts and sports will help. I worry that if things are this bad now, what could that possibly mean for his teen years, and I pray we can get to him in time before it comes to that. As with Noah's process several years ago, there are days I want to walk out of the house and just leave. I don't feel strong enough to do this.
I went back in my archives and found some of the posts I wrote during Noah's process, because I just need hope. I re-read several posts, and wow, Noah has come so far in these past five years! I never thought we'd get through it, but we did. I look at where he is now with life and I'm speechless. He gives me hope for Avery. I have to remind myself it is a process. I know we will get through this. None of this will happen overnight. I also have to remind myself that this is part of God's plan for Avery, as it is with Noah, and certainly not the end. Somehow, this will all work for His good, right? God's got this, even when I don't. I don't have to be strong enough to do this, because God already is.
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
I'll Be the One Wearing the Strait Jacket with Duct Tape Over My Mouth
I've avoided organized sports with my kids. Like the plague. Not necessarily as a rule, not because I don't want my kids to be in them, not because I don't like them, or I'm lazy, or I myself am not athletic. I'll be honest, I've avoided them because of the other parents.
The arm chair quarterbacks. The screamers. The hecklers and trash talkers. The adults reliving their glory days through their five year olds. The parents who want to argue every play and call made by the coaches and referees. The parents who want to argue about playing time.
I can't stand the kill-or-be-killed mentality so many parents are drilling into their children on the field, the court, the track, the ice. I can't handle the blatant abuse, ridicule and disrespect badly disguised as healthy criticism and cheering. It's gotten out of hand. It's not behavior I choose to participate in, nor is it behavior I even understand. I think one of the more appalling things about this behavior is that it isn't targeted just at the other teams, coaches and referees, but also at their own children, and their children's teammates. This behavior does not build strong men and women, it tears down little boys and girls. I don't like that sports are no longer about having fun, making friends, getting some exercise and learning good sportsmanship. It's no longer just about being a kid. Rather, it's all about winning, it's all about being the best. You are nothing without a win. Parents are taking the emphasis off teamwork, and moving it to individual pressure. None of this is done in the name of encouragement. It's done in the name of being the best, with the best defined as those with the trophy and medals. He who dies with the most bragging rights, wins. Organized sports, especially at the younger ages, should be about social skills, and emotional growth and development.
This is the message we are sending our children from the stands: You are only worthy of my love when you are winning.
It disgusts me.
We are no longer teaching our children that some win and some lose, and in that process, how to lose--and win--gracefully. To be clear, I am not one of those "everyone gets a trophy" moms, either. In that mentality, we are no longer teaching our children that hard work pays off. Instead, we are teaching entitlement.
The time has come, however. I am now an organized sports mom. I come complete with the SUV covered with team stickers, in case you were wondering. I love my kids, I want them to be happy and well rounded, and well, participating in sports is part of that. My kids need this. I will be praying that my children are the light to their teammates, that they will have good, positive, encouraging coaches, for the other teammates and their parents, and most of all, that they will have fun, and, as cheesy as it sounds, that it only matters how you played, not whether you won or lost. I want my children to learn that I love them no matter what, and my pride comes from a job well done, hard work, and respect shown to their coaches, referees, teammates and the other teams--not a game won or lost. Please don't misunderstand me, I would love for my children to know the joy of winning, but I want these other things for them more.
Already, I have found myself shouting, "YOU'RE DOING A GREAT JOB" and clapping my heart out,embarrassing my son hoping to drown out the naysayers and negativity. What I really want to say is, "Hey jerk, let's see you out there doing it better!" I know that is not the example I want to set for my children, so I will continue with my campaign of encouragement instead. And maybe a few dirty looks.
I have promised myself I will behave. I have promised my children and my husband I will conduct myself in a respectful, respectable manner towards these other parents. I have have promised I will not say what's really on my mind. If you know me well enough, you know this is not my strong suit. So, if you happen to see a woman in the stands wearing a strait jacket and duct tape over her mouth, give me a wave, and shout something encouraging to the teams.
The arm chair quarterbacks. The screamers. The hecklers and trash talkers. The adults reliving their glory days through their five year olds. The parents who want to argue every play and call made by the coaches and referees. The parents who want to argue about playing time.
I can't stand the kill-or-be-killed mentality so many parents are drilling into their children on the field, the court, the track, the ice. I can't handle the blatant abuse, ridicule and disrespect badly disguised as healthy criticism and cheering. It's gotten out of hand. It's not behavior I choose to participate in, nor is it behavior I even understand. I think one of the more appalling things about this behavior is that it isn't targeted just at the other teams, coaches and referees, but also at their own children, and their children's teammates. This behavior does not build strong men and women, it tears down little boys and girls. I don't like that sports are no longer about having fun, making friends, getting some exercise and learning good sportsmanship. It's no longer just about being a kid. Rather, it's all about winning, it's all about being the best. You are nothing without a win. Parents are taking the emphasis off teamwork, and moving it to individual pressure. None of this is done in the name of encouragement. It's done in the name of being the best, with the best defined as those with the trophy and medals. He who dies with the most bragging rights, wins. Organized sports, especially at the younger ages, should be about social skills, and emotional growth and development.
This is the message we are sending our children from the stands: You are only worthy of my love when you are winning.
It disgusts me.
We are no longer teaching our children that some win and some lose, and in that process, how to lose--and win--gracefully. To be clear, I am not one of those "everyone gets a trophy" moms, either. In that mentality, we are no longer teaching our children that hard work pays off. Instead, we are teaching entitlement.
The time has come, however. I am now an organized sports mom. I come complete with the SUV covered with team stickers, in case you were wondering. I love my kids, I want them to be happy and well rounded, and well, participating in sports is part of that. My kids need this. I will be praying that my children are the light to their teammates, that they will have good, positive, encouraging coaches, for the other teammates and their parents, and most of all, that they will have fun, and, as cheesy as it sounds, that it only matters how you played, not whether you won or lost. I want my children to learn that I love them no matter what, and my pride comes from a job well done, hard work, and respect shown to their coaches, referees, teammates and the other teams--not a game won or lost. Please don't misunderstand me, I would love for my children to know the joy of winning, but I want these other things for them more.
Already, I have found myself shouting, "YOU'RE DOING A GREAT JOB" and clapping my heart out,
I have promised myself I will behave. I have promised my children and my husband I will conduct myself in a respectful, respectable manner towards these other parents. I have have promised I will not say what's really on my mind. If you know me well enough, you know this is not my strong suit. So, if you happen to see a woman in the stands wearing a strait jacket and duct tape over her mouth, give me a wave, and shout something encouraging to the teams.
"Be an encourager. The world has too many critics already."
Dave Willis
Monday, August 24, 2015
Be Kind
I have dragged out my soapbox, dusted it off, and am now standing squarely on it. Something touched a nerve today, so here I am, sounding off. Again.
Why do we judge other moms? Why do we even think their choices are any of our business? Here's the thing: Nothing about their lives really are our business. Ask yourself: are their children happy, healthy, (relatively) clean, loved and cared for? If the answer is yes, then--well, stay out of it. As long as that mom is not committing illegal, reportable, neglectful or even questionable offenses, stay out of it. Do not insert opinion here.
Just because she is doing the all-encampassing 'it' differently than you does not make her wrong. Nor does it make your own choices wrong--or even right. There are very few instances that make a person an expert in any area, and even fewer instances that beg for those experts to impart their knowledge, especially when they've not been asked. Unfortunately, there are far too many self-imposed experts who don't see things that way. When you impose your opinions and views on another, you are not speaking with wisdom and love, nor is the receiving person being enriched. Instead, you are being bossy and pushy. You are distancing yourself and that person with a wall of judgement and criticism. Your message is lost in your argument. You are not being helpful, you are being rude and obnoxious. Another thing to remember is that just because 'it' works for your family, does not mean 'it' will work for another.
Some moms have many children, and some only have one. Some moms use formula, others choose to breastfeed. Some moms homeschool, while others send their children off to private or public school. Some co-sleep, others use cribs. Some moms have their children early in life, while others wait. Some like their children's ages spaced out, others prefer stair steps. And I can't forget one of the hottest debates around: Some moms stay home, while others work outside the home.
Some of these decisions aren't always choices made out of desire, but instead, made out of circumstances. Sometimes those decisions are forced on us, just because that's how things roll. In the realm of personal choices, it's no one's business but our own, and our spouse's, and in cases of faith, God's.
It is not up to us to question those choices. There are questions I do not ask, things I do not assume, and words I do not say, just because of what has been asked, assumed and said to/of me over the years. I know how much those things hurt, and how long they echo.
God created us all differently, and for good reasons. How boring would it be if we all behaved the same, acted the same, thought the same--and raised our children the same? If we all had the same opinions and made the same choices?
Speak in love. Be kind. Choose your words wisely. Be aware of your audience, especially when that person's children are present. Be supportive, be encouraging. And if you don't have something nice to say, keep it shut.
Why do we judge other moms? Why do we even think their choices are any of our business? Here's the thing: Nothing about their lives really are our business. Ask yourself: are their children happy, healthy, (relatively) clean, loved and cared for? If the answer is yes, then--well, stay out of it. As long as that mom is not committing illegal, reportable, neglectful or even questionable offenses, stay out of it. Do not insert opinion here.
Just because she is doing the all-encampassing 'it' differently than you does not make her wrong. Nor does it make your own choices wrong--or even right. There are very few instances that make a person an expert in any area, and even fewer instances that beg for those experts to impart their knowledge, especially when they've not been asked. Unfortunately, there are far too many self-imposed experts who don't see things that way. When you impose your opinions and views on another, you are not speaking with wisdom and love, nor is the receiving person being enriched. Instead, you are being bossy and pushy. You are distancing yourself and that person with a wall of judgement and criticism. Your message is lost in your argument. You are not being helpful, you are being rude and obnoxious. Another thing to remember is that just because 'it' works for your family, does not mean 'it' will work for another.
Some moms have many children, and some only have one. Some moms use formula, others choose to breastfeed. Some moms homeschool, while others send their children off to private or public school. Some co-sleep, others use cribs. Some moms have their children early in life, while others wait. Some like their children's ages spaced out, others prefer stair steps. And I can't forget one of the hottest debates around: Some moms stay home, while others work outside the home.
Some of these decisions aren't always choices made out of desire, but instead, made out of circumstances. Sometimes those decisions are forced on us, just because that's how things roll. In the realm of personal choices, it's no one's business but our own, and our spouse's, and in cases of faith, God's.
It is not up to us to question those choices. There are questions I do not ask, things I do not assume, and words I do not say, just because of what has been asked, assumed and said to/of me over the years. I know how much those things hurt, and how long they echo.
God created us all differently, and for good reasons. How boring would it be if we all behaved the same, acted the same, thought the same--and raised our children the same? If we all had the same opinions and made the same choices?
Speak in love. Be kind. Choose your words wisely. Be aware of your audience, especially when that person's children are present. Be supportive, be encouraging. And if you don't have something nice to say, keep it shut.
Saturday, August 22, 2015
In Your Absence: Measuring Parental Success
There is a bit of parenting advice I've carried with me for years, and it's gotten me through those "What in the world am I doing" days. It had nothing to do with potty training, sleeping through the night, getting them off on that first day of school, or getting them to eat their vegetables.
What this person told me, in a time of personal desperation with Noah, was worth its weight in gold.
That day, another parent was telling me all the wonderful things Noah was doing when she saw him in school: How polite he was, how courteous and kind, how he always waved and said hello when he saw her in the hallway, that he was opening doors and helping others. I remember thinking, "Are we talking about the same Noah?" For several years, when I met with teachers, I was met with only complaints and negativity. At home, we had similar struggles. I always worried about how he was behaving when I wasn't there to remind him of his manners. I shared my thoughts with this other mom, and she shared this bit of advice with me:
So, give yourselves a break today, Mom and Dad. Chances are good, if you're teaching them these things, they are remembering them when you're not around. Home is their safe place, where they don't necessarily remember manners and they can be slobs, knowing they won't be judged, and will still be loved.
Give yourselves the room to breathe, and relax a bit. They're getting it.
What this person told me, in a time of personal desperation with Noah, was worth its weight in gold.
That day, another parent was telling me all the wonderful things Noah was doing when she saw him in school: How polite he was, how courteous and kind, how he always waved and said hello when he saw her in the hallway, that he was opening doors and helping others. I remember thinking, "Are we talking about the same Noah?" For several years, when I met with teachers, I was met with only complaints and negativity. At home, we had similar struggles. I always worried about how he was behaving when I wasn't there to remind him of his manners. I shared my thoughts with this other mom, and she shared this bit of advice with me:
"The measure of success as a parent is when he's doing the things you're teaching him in your absence, even if he's not getting them when you're around."
So, give yourselves a break today, Mom and Dad. Chances are good, if you're teaching them these things, they are remembering them when you're not around. Home is their safe place, where they don't necessarily remember manners and they can be slobs, knowing they won't be judged, and will still be loved.
Give yourselves the room to breathe, and relax a bit. They're getting it.
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Manners
Warning: This is a rant. Yep. A rant about manners. They aren't that hard to use, people.
In raising boys, one of my goals is to raise gentlemen. Boys turning into men who open doors, remember their manners, are polite to others, complimentary, and courteous.
I will tell you--it's really hard when they aren't encouraged by others. It makes my job that much more difficult. They start wondering why they should bother. Should my children always expect a turnaround from the receiving person? No, but how hard is a smile and a quick, "Thanks"?
One of my pet peeves is people who can't be bothered to thank my children when they hold doors open. I've watched entire families walk through the door, entire groups, as I wait on my child, and not one single person so much as glanced at him. On occasion, I've been known to call out "You're welcome! Have a fantastic day!" I may or may not mutter something else under my breath after that. I have thanked the people who do thank my children, explaining that it encourages them to continue the good, polite behavior.
Avery is pleased with himself when he holds a door open. He knows he's doing something right, and something nice. He knows he's being a gentleman, he likes doing it, and it makes him happy. I've taught him to wish the person a good day, and smile. In some cases, I've watched as my children run ahead of a person just to open the door. They've also recently been racing each other to see who can get there first. Only my kids could turn manners into a contest. *sigh* Please don't knock down the little old lady, boys....
When my children are polite enough to help you, when any child is polite enough to help you, please don't ignore that child's efforts. They are young and impressionable, and they need our encouragement. Their parents are working hard to raise good children. Please encourage them, please thank them, please engage them in a short, quick conversation. This helps develop language and social skills, and lets them know they're on the right track. You know what? Maybe you could also encourage that child's parents. We need to hear more of that, just as much as our children do!
If you aren't encouraging these future adults, you are discouraging them. And, if you are discouraging them, please don't complain about 'kids today.' In that respect, you are part of the problem, not the solution.
Thank you.
In raising boys, one of my goals is to raise gentlemen. Boys turning into men who open doors, remember their manners, are polite to others, complimentary, and courteous.
I will tell you--it's really hard when they aren't encouraged by others. It makes my job that much more difficult. They start wondering why they should bother. Should my children always expect a turnaround from the receiving person? No, but how hard is a smile and a quick, "Thanks"?
One of my pet peeves is people who can't be bothered to thank my children when they hold doors open. I've watched entire families walk through the door, entire groups, as I wait on my child, and not one single person so much as glanced at him. On occasion, I've been known to call out "You're welcome! Have a fantastic day!" I may or may not mutter something else under my breath after that. I have thanked the people who do thank my children, explaining that it encourages them to continue the good, polite behavior.
Avery is pleased with himself when he holds a door open. He knows he's doing something right, and something nice. He knows he's being a gentleman, he likes doing it, and it makes him happy. I've taught him to wish the person a good day, and smile. In some cases, I've watched as my children run ahead of a person just to open the door. They've also recently been racing each other to see who can get there first. Only my kids could turn manners into a contest. *sigh* Please don't knock down the little old lady, boys....
When my children are polite enough to help you, when any child is polite enough to help you, please don't ignore that child's efforts. They are young and impressionable, and they need our encouragement. Their parents are working hard to raise good children. Please encourage them, please thank them, please engage them in a short, quick conversation. This helps develop language and social skills, and lets them know they're on the right track. You know what? Maybe you could also encourage that child's parents. We need to hear more of that, just as much as our children do!
If you aren't encouraging these future adults, you are discouraging them. And, if you are discouraging them, please don't complain about 'kids today.' In that respect, you are part of the problem, not the solution.
Thank you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)