You know you are a parent when…you mop the dining room floor and just go ahead and mop the walls too. Yes, that was me this Saturday and while I was scrubbing the blueberry fingerprints and applesauce, and the “oh-my-goodness-what-is-that-and how-long-has-it-been-there” substances from the wall, I had to laugh. Nobody prepared me for this. But, then again, nothing can fully prepare you for being a parent. Especially, when all of the “I will never” statements that you made without kids (remember those? insert mad laughter here) flew out the window the moment they started breathing outside of the womb.
Ahhh, but parenting is the adventure of a lifetime! It is the ultimate world of contradictions, isn’t it? It’s a constant battle to find that perfect balance between maintaining order and allowing total anarchy. It’s the delicate tension between establishing solid boundaries and being flexible. It’s the frustrated repetition of your request for the 14th time (in somewhat elevated tones…ahem) one minute and splitting your sides, rolling on the floor laugher at their antics the next. It’s feeling claustrophobic, that you never seem to have a moment to yourself and then insanely missing your kids when you are away from them (or is that just me?). It’s struggling to keep your house in order and then letting loose and joining your kids in an indoor water fight (notice I said WATER, not food…that is another animal altogether!). It’s teaching your children to practice voice moderation (even if you’re REALLY bad at it) and just rolling with it when your two little boys chase each other around the house screaming “I’m Fartacus!” “No, I’m Fartacus!” at the top of their lungs, Oh wait, that’s just at my house. Yes, thank you, Daddy, for that inspiration! (Those of you who have seen the movie Spartacus starring Kirk Douglas will totally get the reference here). It’s being “I think I’m a zombie, I haven’t slept in 6 years” exhausted and also…no…Wait…that one, that one stands on its own. It’s navigating the channel of Cause and Effect, all the while realizing that many times the resulting effect you desire the least is something that you have caused. And then there is the self-criticism and guilt that goes along with it. The frenzied teetering between thinking we have finally started figuring things out and feeling like a complete failure. And in that moment of despair, your child says or does something that makes you realize…They get it! Something we have taught them has connected with them. I had one of those moments recently.
I was folding laundry in the sunroom. My two boys were each playing quietly with their own toys (on opposite sides of the room, hence the quiet) after a looong day, when my youngest suddenly starts singing to himself.
“Clang, clang, rattle, bing, bang, gonna make my noise all day!”
“Clang, clang, rattle, bing, bang, gonna make my noise all day!”
Ahhhh, the refrain from Mortimer by Robert Munsch. Just what I want my child reciting. I remember thinking Mortimer was just a silly book until I read it after having children (Can’t say I’m too fond of that bedtime routine). Anyways…
My little guy kept singing and before long his older brother, my 4-almost 5 year old, joined in. After a bit, my oldest suddenly piped up.
“Mom, it was really the parents who started the whole thing in the first place!” Having had numerous previous discussions about how Mortimer’s behaviour was not appropriate, I knew he was talking about the story.
“Why do you say that?” I asked
“Because they didn’t pay enough attention to him. And so he was trying to get their attention.”
“Interesting perspective,” I said. He resumed playing with his Lego and singing softly. I assumed the topic was ended, when suddenly he stops singing and looks at me.
“Mom, Mortimer is a liar!”
“Why is he a liar?” I asked, wondering what he was thinking.
“Because he said he was going to do something and then he keeped on not doing it, so that means he lied. Just like me, when I say I’m going to listen and I don’t.”
“Good observation,” I said and waited for him to continue his deep thoughts. But apparently Lego buildings exploding were far more pressing at the moment and just like that our conversation was over. It was interesting to me that my son had given this some serious thought and that he managed to see both sides to the story, something we adults are not always good at. The exchange left me laughing, but also got me thinking. And not so much about Mortimer, but about his parents. Mortimer might be just a silly story, but it highlights some great points.
Proverbs 14:1 says “The wise woman builds her house, But the foolish pulls it down with her hands.” (emphasis mine) When I read the word “build” I think of something solid. Something lasting. Something that stands the test of time. Something that has a purpose. Builders don’t build without a reason. They have a purpose and intention for every single piece that goes into its construction. They build according to a set of plans. Careful plans that have been drawn up in advance. A road map to follow. Good builders don’t just build on the fly and hope that things come together. No, they vigilantly plan each stage of the build to reach a desired result. They are purposeful and measured.
Building. That is our job as parents. Construction or demolition. We get to choose, despite the dysfunction that may have been framed our own upbringing. Having been raised in a very authoritarian environment, I was of the impression that parenting was ultimately about control. What was modeled for me was that as a parent you are always to have complete control and in so doing, your children will behave the way you want them to. But when I became a parent myself, I realized that parenting wasn’t like that at all. Or rather, it could be, but not if I wanted something different for my kids than what I experienced growing up. I don’t want to raise robots. I want to raise strong independent children who make the right choices because they know it’s right and choose right, not because I forced them to. So, I had to recognize that my role isn’t supposed to be one of constant battling for control. It isn’t supposed to mean the bending of my child’s will to my own. It is supposed to be about leading and guiding. Laying framework for their future. And not perpetuating the building “shortcuts” that I experienced. It is modelling the behavior that I want to teach (which is WAAAY easier said than done! Oy! I am definitely still in process on this one). It’s about building. Solid. Firm. Lasting.
Ok. But, here’s the rub. This revelation is great, but how on earth to walk it out? There are no blueprints for raising kids, no special user manual given to you for each child at birth, no magic formulas that work all the time, or even ones that work for all your children at the same time! There are as many books, and audio series’, and studies and views on “effective parenting” as there are grains of sand at the beach it seems. But a concrete solution that you can go to for guaranteed success? Not so much.
Or is there? The above passage says that a wise woman builds. James 1:5-8 says that if we need wisdom, we should ask God for it. I love the way the Message Bible says this.
James 1:5-8 The Message (MSG)
5-8 If you don’t know what you’re doing, pray to the Father. He loves to help. You’ll get his help, and won’t be condescended to when you ask for it. Ask boldly, believingly, without a second thought. People who “worry their prayers” are like wind-whipped waves. Don’t think you’re going to get anything from the Master that way, adrift at sea, keeping all your options open.
Don’t know what you’re doing? Ask for help. Okay, sounds simple, but I know I am good at the asking, but not so much at the listening for an answer part. Or the obeying His answers part. How many times do we ask, but not really expect a response? Or pray for direction, but then dismiss the quiet answer because it goes against how we think things should be done? Building has to start with our own obedience. And not just in our parenting, but in our own character. If we want to model what we want to see in our kids, if we want to lay the foundation of a magnificent future, we have to start on our knees. But, just like I don’t want to make my children obey through coercion, our Father will not force us to obey. He has given us free will. The right to choose. Our own obedience has to be an act of submission. It requires a giving over of one’s desires – an act of the will. So, in our submission, we become teachable, and in our pursuit of His heart and His will, we become wise (Proverbs 2). And that is the laying of our bricks on a firm foundation, not hastily constructed sandcastles that collapse when the waves come.
I don’t think I will ever read Mortimer the same way. It’s not just a story to me anymore. I see it as a life lesson – both as a parent and as God’s child. Mortimer’s parents are a shining example of what not to do. Obviously, no human parent will ever be perfect, and we are definitely going to drop the ball and fall flat on our faces on occasion (or very frequently). But when we parent from our knees, it’s a much shorter distance to fall. And as for Mortimer? Well, let’s just say, if he wanted some attention, perhaps he would have gotten farther if he had just asked for what he needed.
“Everybody knows how to raise children, except the people who have them.”
― P.J. O’Rourke
Of Shattered Things 