Better Parenting in 2008

Changing old habits is hard. I mean really hard. I have an irritating habit of kicking my shoes off as soon as my backside hits a horizontal surface and then completely forgetting that I did it. As you can well imagine the result is shoes under the coffee table, shoes under the dinning room table, shoes in the kitchen nook , shoes scattered all over the bedroom, under my side of the bed, under his side of the bed, at the foot of the bed, under the chair. You get the picture. It irritates me so I know it drives the rest of my family nuts. They persevere. I can’t seem to change this bad habit because I am not even conscious of the act even as I do it. It’s as if the shoes just skipped off my feet of their own volition. How can I change that?

Parenting habits seem to suffer the same problem. I do some things and I am not even aware that I’m doing them. The insidious part of parenting is that children do as you do not as you say. No matter how many times you tell them otherwise. And in that way my bad habits replicate into their bad habits. When I become frustrated and work myself into a snit, I am teaching them to scrunch up their faces and snarl when they get frustrated. When I put off making the final pageant costumes until 10 pm the night before the pageant they learn to scramble around the night before a project is due trying to find glue sticks and teal construction paper.

To be a better parent in 2008 means I will need to be a better person in 2008. This sounds terrible. I want to concentrate on them, the kids. It is so easy to see just what they need to do to be happier and more successful and more peaceful. I don’t want that reflected back on me. The harsh truth is that if I don’t want my children to make the mistakes I make then I need to stop making those mistakes. Easier said than done. Not something I can do of my own strength. Seeking strength through quiet time with God, talking time with friends and honest self examination is the path to correcting my errors, errors in the things I do and say and think. (Don’t think they don’t know the gist of what you are thinking, they do.)

If ever I need reminding that my bad habits are contagious I need look no further than the floor under the coffee table, and the dinning room table and the kitchen nook. There I will find not only my size 9 pumps and running shoes but little white sandals and little black patent church shoes. It is as if my big shoes invited some little girl shoes in for a chat. Such a visual reminded that my daughter will do what I do no matter how many times I say, at the height of hypocrisy, “If you put your shoes away you will always know where to find them.”

So maybe we will work on shoes this month. And maybe I can remember that I am a walking object lesson whether I like it or not. To improve my child requires only that I improve myself. Once again I am reminded that parenting is not for the faint of heart.

Blessings,
Michelle

Labels

Seven years ago Don became the new grandpa in our family. While some of the grandkids had a hard time adjusting, mine did not. My children were 6 years old and 3 years old when Mom married Don. My father died when they were very young so they have very few, if any, memories of him. Don entered with enthusiasm for his new role. He is generous with treats and his time. For the first couple of years it never occurred to him to utter the dread words, ”Maybe we should ask your mother,” in relation to things like Mountain Dew, ice cream and The Simpsons. We all love him.

The only problem I have with Don is how to introduce him. I stumble every time. I once referred to him as my stepfather and a friend said, “Aren’t you a little old to call him that?” I guess to call him stepfather is to imply that he helped raise me. He didn’t. I was 37 years old when he married my mother. Next I tried, “This is my mother’s husband”. Not good. That seems cold and distant. I thought the fail safe method would be to introduce him as my children’s grandfather. That too brought baggage. My son’s second grade teacher, laughing at one of Don’s jokes, was confident that my son, Harrison, had inherited his sense of humor directly from his grandfather. The family cringed feeling we had misled her.

I have, in just the last year, introduced him as my father, my mother’s husband, my stepfather and my father-in-law. Most often I have chosen to say, “This is my mother, Martha and this is Don,” leaving everyone to wonder how he fits in and why I didn’t give him a familial label. My problem is that I want to claim him as part of us, but I don’t know how the hearer of my introduction will interpret each label.

That is the problem with labels; everyone brings their own interpretation to the terms. Label yourself a Christian and one person sees a hate monger out to exclude as many people as possible, another sees a wimp dominated by the church while others see a pleasant but ineffectual do-gooder. A few see a follower of Christ doing the best she can.

Jesus resisted labels. At one moment he was a scholar of the Jewish law and at another apparently flaunting that same law for the good of the sinners by which he was surrounded. He didn’t seem to be interested in telling us what label he thought he should have but rather he asked Peter, “Who do you say that I am?” Jesus seemed more interested in what individuals had to say, what they believed than defining himself. He didn’t seem to spend any time correcting the misconceptions about his label but he spent his time caring for the sick and lame and broken hearted around him. Isn’t that just like him.

As a Christian I try not to engage in debates about the image of Christianity. I should love God and love my neighbor and let the labels sort themselves out or not. In the same way, I will let the world know that I love Don as my mother’s husband, my stepfather, my children’s grandfather, as himself, without the concern of how others interpret the labels. Long explanations are exhausting and generally do little to illuminate a relationship either here on earth or beyond. Loving actions will overcome limiting labels. After all we are not called to declare our correctness but to show our love.

So I am a Christian and Don is Don and the world can sort out what that means.

Blessings in the New Year,
Michelle