You remember? Do you remember when you wished and waited and prayed to be blessed with a child? Do you remember thinking of the type of parent you just knew you were going to be? And, you couldn't wait to be it?
It is a lot like when you decided to homeschool. You could see the days filled with happy children. Thrilled to spend the days with you. Seeing you not only as their teacher (the best one they ever had. The kind they would have cried if asked to move up to the next grade and another teacher) but also as one of their very best friends that they trust and share and know you won't lead them astray?
I had one of those days. No, not one of the good kind mentioned up above. One of those days. The kind that you wonder what in the world you were ever thinking.
I met my husband shortly after he arrived home from work. I had tried to pretend nothing was wrong and essentially hide in the bathroom pretending to do some cleaning. After knowing me for over 21 years, he knew better. This is one of the only days in my entire years of being a mommy that I said to my husband, "today, I don't feel like being mom."
It was hard. It hurts me to say that. It hurts me to have felt that.
The kids were fighting. They were disrespectful of one another and one of them was more disrespectful of me than is acceptable.
I was fighting tears all evening. And, not winning the battle.
I can deal with fighting and arguing. It is normal. I don't like it. It shouldn't happen each and every single day as soon as they are to begin (and during) chores. But, for whatever reason, when chores are started, so is the bickering.
What I could not deal with was the disrespect towards me. It was hurtful. So, I thought about the who, what, when, where and why's of the situation. One, it is not new. It is a recurring situation. Does that mean this child is mean and disrespectful by nature? No. Absolutely not. Actually, they are so kind hearted and respectful to everyone else, it gets tiring hearing the praises from everyone that meets them. It is just me.
I once told my husband when the kids were very little and they were misbehaving for us and no one else, that kids often were the worst behaved for those they felt most securely would love them anyway. Maybe that is part of it. I certainly do love my children very very much.
I then thought that it could be that as the children mature and turn more towards being young adults rather than young children, I try very hard to give them the respect as such. I try to treat them more as adults than children. Sometimes, that means silly conversations similar to what you would have with a friend. Sometimes, it is having serious conversations such as you would with another adult. One that you respect and value their opinion. But, what I did not think about all that much until this evening is this:
They are still my children. And, whether they NEED to feel respected and accepted as the growing people that they are, it is hard for me to accept being spoken to in the manner that we are equals. It is hard for me to hear tones of voice used with me such as they would use with a friend that had annoyed them. It just plain hurts.
I want them to talk to me as adults when they are able to do so. I want them to think and decide and discuss in the highest manner they are capable of, but I do not want them to confuse adult conversation with a fellow adult to mean there is no common respect.
No, they are not adults. They are young adults in training. That means simply that the mistakes that they used to make as children are now replaced with mistakes made by 'adults in the making'. And, I guess, I just have not learned how to flow with it. I have not learned that I need a different type of armour than I had used when they were children.
After I thought this through a bit longer (and, calmed down a considerable amount), I wrote a letter to my child. I explained my love, respect and admiration for the young adult they were growing into. I told them that while I was trying very hard to show these feelings I had for them, I needed some of it back.
I don't know. Maybe I do like being a mom. It just seems to hurt a bit more at times, but my goodness, what great kids I have.
My motto with kids is and will always be this: "They are kids. Their jobs are to experiment, try things out and to mess up. It is how they learn. Our job is to help them figure it out and show them a better option and to help guide them into being the absolute best person they are capable of being while supporting them and loving them."
I hope that I made a step in that direction tonight.
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