When my daughter was less than 18 months old, I realized I didn’t want to parent by default, doing what my own mother had done or what I read in parenting magazines.
For example, “time outs” didn’t feel right – they felt manipulative. And worse, the currency I was using to manipulate my beloved child was my own love. “Be nice or I don’t want to be with you.” “Do as I tell you to or I won’t love you.”
As my child started to express her strong willed, determined, creative, intense and intelligent self, I realized that the default parenting I was doing was all about control. “Control your kid.” “Make her mind.” “You can’t let her act that way!”
Suddenly, my beliefs and actions collided.
When she was born, something changed. Call it “mama bear” instinct, or whatever, but I made a deep commitment that changed me – I knew I had to be the parent she (and later, her two brothers) needed me to be. Parenting was not something I was willing to “fail” at – no matter what!
Well, it turned out that was an easy commitment to make when I had a baby who needed nothing but to eat, poop and sleep. It was much more challenging to put into action with a toddler – her hands on her hips and eyes throwing daggers, determined to be heard!
I’d like to say that I immediately became the perfect mother. *snort*
But no, not so much! I can say that I strived every single day to do it differently. We talked and cuddled and too often, my kids steamrollered right over me. When I was tired or stressed or drained, I heard things come out of my mouth that I wished I could suck back.
Perhaps a hidden blessing has been that my kids simply don’t respond to rewards or punishment. That was indescribably frustrating when I wanted/needed a quick, easy way to get them to comply with something! But there’s nothing that could have forced me to figure out how to parent with influence and love rather than with control than having kids who refused to easily be controlled. I suppose I could have yelled louder or offered bigger rewards, but I didn’t want to “break” them either – so I kind of had no choice in the matter. Learn to do it differently just to survive!
Now skip about 10 years forward. Tween in the house! Need I say more?? Nature turned up the dial on the intensity…
Amidst every fight, some instinct told me that once again, parenting her was too often about control. And once again, the currency I was too often using to try to get her to do things was the threat of withholding my love and acceptance. “Do your homework or I won’t take you to your friend’s house.” “Stop yelling at me or I’ll take away your cell phone.”
There she stood before me – taller and more articulate. But still the same hands on her hips and the same eyes throwing daggers at me! And she still refused to comply!
I took up meditation.
And the quiet instinct inside of me told me that, deeper than whatever we might be fighting about at any particular moment, what she needed from me was to know she was loved – no matter how she acted or what she did. She needed to know that I wouldn’t leave her or give up on her. She needed to be seen and accepted for who she is, not for who I wanted her to be. In fact, isn’t that the very definition of being loved? Isn’t that what we all want and need?
I knew, in my heart, that I loved her beyond anything I could have imagined before she was born. I would literally jump in front of a bus for my children. I would tear myself inside out to be my best for them. But she obviously needed to hear it from me. So I made a commitment to myself: before I responded to anything she said or did, I would preface everything with a quiet and direct “I love you and…”
The first few times, I probably caught her off guard. She would pause, but then continue. And then a few days later, in the midst of another disagreement, she said “I know that you love me Mom, but right now I don’t feel it very much!”
Palm to forehead. Doh!
She hit such an important point – that “loving” isn’t about what we say, it’s about how those around us feel when they’re with us.
It struck me in that moment that loving my children isn’t about saying “I love you” (although that’s part of it). It’s about understanding that each of them is a miracle and a gift in my life, about feeling a deep and abiding appreciation that fills me up with joy every time I see or think of them. I know (and my children know) that my love for them is there all the time, no matter what’s going on – and yet, it’s up to me to make sure I let myself feel it, even when it would be easier to bury my face in my own misery or stress or needs. I’ve learned that when I feel it, they feel it too.
So I’ve changed my approach. Instead of focusing on saying “I love you and…” in a dispute, I stop and take a breath, letting my love burn like a fire in my belly. I let the warmth fill me. I let my wonder at these little miracles shine from me.
I’ve noticed that I can’t help but soften in that moment. I let my eyes meet my child’s eyes. I take in all the daggers and send back joy. I move closer and I speak softly.
And a funny thing happens – they pull closer too. Quite quickly, they soften and rest within my love.
I knew I was heading the right direction when, one day, my teen came back after an upset and said “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. Can we try again?” Or when I kneeled down with my sobbing little one, asking what he needed (expecting him to say he needed help getting a toy back from his older siblings, or to get them to play with him) and instead he said “Mommy, I just need some lovin!”
That just wouldn’t have happened a year or two ago. Once again, my children have changed me. Or, more specifically, I’ve let the needs of my children change me.
I had to let go of my own “baggage” in order to wrap my arms around them. And I had to learn how to draw them close, so they could bask in the warm glow of that fire in my belly.
Only then could they actually start to hear me…
