Coffee-induced Parenting Thoughts

While chatting with friends over a few coffees, (bet you thought I was going to say a few beers), the subject of parenting came up. Quickly it became apparent to me that for as many people there are on this planet, there are that many plus 5 or 6 more different parenting styles. It's amazing. And even more amazing, to me anyway, is how one person can have different styles, or approaches, based upon the situation.

There are a few parenting techniques, or styles, or mistakes hanging around this house. One of the more common styles is the if I could put myself in your place style. Where I find myself taking on their load and carrying it. The cleaning of the room, the doing of the homework, the selling of the cookies, the fundraising for this or that until I'm not only blue in the face, but blue all over. The practically selling of my soul so they can do whatever it is that they want. And lately I wonder if this is right. Am I doing any justice to my sweet loves by picking up their balls and juggling? (No, I don't have boys. Remember this is family blog...)

And then there is the style that beckons back to the old philosophy that you can't hold a newborn too much. The idea that you can't spoil a baby. And I believe you can't. But sheepishly I have to admit that I still try to cuddle all my loves in that cradle hold while kissing and hugging them. There is a part of me that does not want any of them to grow up. Despite the fact I noticed the youngest's legs now go completely to the floor and my oldest is just about ready to tower over me. When did that happen? When did they grow up?

Of course, my oldest has taught me a thing or two over the years. Just when I sincerely, with every fiber of my being, thought that I was going to be repeating every lesson and then some, of elementary school she notified me, "I can do my homework on my own." I wanted to say, "Since when," but I didn't. I let her take back control. While letting her know that I'm here, especially for math, and reluctantly for spanish. However during spanish study sessions, she always teaches me a thing or two.

My oldest and now the middle one are also in the process of training me that sometimes when they are in that mood, it's better if I just walk away. This lesson in parenting has taken me the longest to learn. How can I walk away? They are upset, crying, angry. How can I change the subject or just ask them to take it elsewhere. What do they gain by having me not be there?

Surprisingly, I think they gain a sense of respect, a knowledge of limits, and sense that their self control really starts with themselves. For years, I would rise to the fighting occassion.

"MOM, the sun is green!"

"No it's not. It's a yellowly white, sometimes, pinkish red and if you squint hard enough orange."

"I said green."

"Oh that's silly."

"No it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"NO, IT'S NOT!"

Usually by now, but sometimes not, the light dawns on marbleheaded me and I see that the facts aren't important here. All that is being sought after is a fight. And now when I see the light, I stop my fight. Change the subject. Walk away.

I've come to realize that it does me and them no good to continue. I put them in control by not feeding their moodiness. I've come to realize that eventually they have to be responsible for their own situation, moods and physical being.

Yesterday, for example one of my loves was pitching a world class tantrum over the stress that was being felt over a talent show. Two minutes of singing torture that she brought upon herself by signing up for a spot with a friend. The friend was over to practice and my love wasn't participating. The friend suggested my love quit the act. At which point the walls and roof came tumbling in.

The demand was laid down that I send this friend home. The idea that they weren't friends anymore was suggested. While the kitchen floor was being washed with tears, the declaration was made that I cared more about the friend than her. I sought out the friend, and asked, "What happened?"

"She wasn't practicing. I suggested she quit."

At least their stories were the same. I returned to my own. Put for the advice to practice or not. Paticipate or quit, but mop up the floor. The tantrum continued. I walked away. I can't ride these emotional roller coasters. No one wins, and thankfully I was pulled further aside by the phone ringing. And while talking on the phone I realized that I was now hearing two voices singing where before there was only one very quiet one. I yelled down the stairs, "Sounds great girls!" The session continued.

In the end the request for the friend to sleepover was made.

My first thought was, "Who are you? And what have you done with my love?" Followed by the answer, "No, it's a school night." God give me strength.

So what did we all learn from yesterday:

1. Once again the point was driven home that my love is still just a little one. And she is so shy, and gets so nervous over being in front of a crowd that she'll pick a fight just to have that emotional release.

2. And once again my not solving the problem, and walking away, gave her the courage to solve the problem, and face her fear.

What'a all this mean? I don't know. I'm still figuring things out. One thing I have learned is drinking coffee makes the mental wheels turn long into the night and even further into the morning. It might be water for me, from now on.