Sometimes it feels like being a mother is being in a continual state of crisis.
Trying to toilet train my first child, I bought a little gumball machine. I gave her a penny to get a gumball each time she used the potty. (Not bribery, incentive!) It went pretty well at first. Then she figured out that just a drop or two earned a gumball. She would ration her output, getting a gumball every 15 minutes or so. I started cutting back on the gumballs. She started cutting back on the potty. I took away the gumball machine. She quit using the potty. I was sure she would never be toilet trained. (She is.)
Twenty -six years later, another daughter wrote and asked how to toilet train her daughter. She was getting pressure from her mother-in-law. I said I could tell her 8 ways that didn’t work at the time, but that all my children are toilet trained now. She later told me that was the most freeing advice I could have given. She quit stressing and making both herself and her daughter miserable.
I remember when I caught my seven-year old with some rhinestone dog collars she had stolen from the pet store at the corner. We didn’t even have a dog—she just thought they were pretty. I made her take them back and apologize. Next thing I knew, she brought home some doodads for her goldfish bowl. “I didn’t steal them, I bought them.” What she had stolen was a $20 bill from my purse. I was sure I was raising a thief who would spend her life in jail. I later learned that it was a stage and that almost all my children went through it, but they didn’t stay stuck there.
Another daughter, 10, refused to eat her scrambled eggs for breakfast. I foolishly declared “You can’t have anything else to eat until you eat your eggs.” I had them there for her when she came home from school. They were there for supper. She went two days! without eating anything (at least not at home). I finally caved. I was sure she would be a rebellious headstrong teenager and we would forever butt heads. (She wasn’t and we don’t. It was a battle that shouldn’t have happened. She even eventually learned to like scrambled eggs.)
I woke up in the middle on the night to find my teenaged son had snuck out and taken our car. I pictured dangerous driving, wild parties, total depravity. (He is now a responsible adult and a loving faithful husband and father.)
Mothering is hard, but we sometimes make it harder as we shift into panic mode.
Of course, teaching and discipline need to occur with each of these and other crises that come with motherhood. We need wisdom to know how to best handle each situation. But we don’t need to over-react with horror and terror. With the perspective of age, I’ve found that most problems have a way of working out. Kids grow up. If we continue loving, respecting, teaching, and encouraging, they usually turn out alright. It’s OK to mellow out.
Some things to not stress about:
Clothing wars. We had a “dress-up” box. My three-year-old loved to wear fluffy slips and scarves, even when we were going to school to pick up her older sister from kindergarten. So what? She was happy and felt beautiful. I just had to let my ego go.
- Same thing for hair wars. Hair grows out, even if it’s purple or spikey or badly bleached.
- Spotless house and clean yard. If children are having fun, they are making messes. Remember your priorities as a mother. As my husband said when our boys dug mudholes in the back yard, “We’re raising children, not grass.”
- Squabbling siblings. As long as there isn’t bullying, and there’s no bloodshed, let them work it out. You can give guidelines, have them practice finding nice things about each other, but you can’t force love. It comes with time
- Picky eaters. They don’t need to be catered to, but if they don’t eat their broccoli at times, they won’t get scurvy. Sometimes it’s the parents who make eating a battle. If you have healthy food on hand, instead of sugary treats, they’ll eventually get hungry and eat.
- Germs. One day I found a half-eaten cockroach in my two-year-old son’s mouth. I thought he would die from hideous germs. He not only survived, he thrived. Science now thinks keeping a child too germ-free keeps them from developing antibodies, making them more likely to be sick in the long run.
Sure, your kids will make mistakes. So will you. But love and patience trumps anxiety and constant worry.
I love the song “Hold On” from The Secret Garden. I’m changing the word “child” into “Mom” for this blog.
"When you see the storm is coming, see the lightning part the skies, it's too late to run-there's terror in your eyes! What you do then is remember this old thing you heard me say: "It's the storm, not you, that's bound to blow away." "Hold on, hold on to someone standing by. Hold on. Don't even ask how long or why! Mom, hold on to what you know is true, hold on 'til you get through. Mom, oh Mom! hold on! "And it doesn't even matter if the danger and the doom come from up above or down below, or just come flying at you from across the room! What you do then is you tell yourself to wait it out and say, "It's this day, not me, that's bound to go away." "Mom, oh hold on. It's this day, not you, that's bound to go away!"
How are you a chill mother? What is the small stuff that you have surrendered (or should)?