Couragous Parenting

When I am doing for my children what I know is right, often there is judgment from those who are not doing the same. Often there is difficulty in enforcing the things I know are best (not easier) and sometimes...those very children, that I am working so hard for...resist.

This is when the courage comes in.

Ben is almost four. He knows what he wants. He has ALWAYS known what he wants but now he has the vocabulary to express exactly how right he is in all things and how very much I suck.

I really don't like this part.

I like the part where he cuddles up to me on the couch with a stack of books, rubs my hand as I turn the pages and stops me to say "I love you so much Mommy, you are my BEST girl".

I really love that part.

What I don't like...loath, really, is when that same sweet, big minded (and mouthed) boy decides that his will and mine are not the same. He lowers his head, clenches his fists and gets that "just try to make me" look (that I admit may have been inherited from a certain someone not appreciating it in this moment). He will stare me down and say in his last chance voice "I will not."

Then I have to decide. IS he going up to his bedroom after pinching his brother because I didn't let him have a forth popcicle?

I meet him eye to eye.

"I am counting to 3 (oh the dreaded words...) if you don't come with me on your own then I will have to help you."
(I am really hoping for the first option...)

His voice is low and firm.

"I WILL not".


If I drag him out from under the table where he is glaring at me I will also have to lug him up the stairs while he shrieks at decibels only known to mother's of willful three and a half year olds and likely he will slap me and kick my thighs all the way there.

I will have to round up every bit of patience humanly possible to CALMLY carry him up the stairs, and in my robotic I-MEAN-BUSINESS voice tell him "you are in your bedroom because you are hurting people. When you can make good choices and be gentle you can come out". Then I will shut the door, to the ever present wailing and shrieking and wait for the dagger...

"I DON'T LIKE YOU ANYMORE! YOU ARE NOT MY FRIEND...OR my best girl"!

Then he will sob and I will have to stay firm in my discipline choice. I will have to not go in that room and pick up my big boy with dangly limbs and emotions too big for his body and hold him in my lap. He will always, no matter how mad he is let me hold him. Even when I think he will surely push me away, he never does. I have to will myself not to cuddle this little boy as he is discovers the power of his words. I would say, "what do I have to do for you to like me again? To be your best girl? I will do anything! Ice cream...toy stores? A puppy? A tiger cub? I can't bare for you to be angry with me! I will never ever make you do anything that displeases you again!I will take you to the park 3 times a day for a month and let you eat chocolate chips for breakfast!"

No that would be too easy. To raise strong men, they must learn as boys. Self control, discipline, consequence and unconditional love...(and that slapping your mother is among the top 10 worst things that you could POSSIBLY do!) It is hard to make the less popular choices, it is hard to expect excellent behavior, manners, respect and obedience, it is hard to set and enforce limits, it is hard to be unpopular and be the brunt of anger. It is hard to set the example when I feel like throwing the blocks and screaming too. It is hard to say no. But if it wasn't hard I wouldn't be doing it right.

I would much rather go to the toy store and eat chocolate then have to set curfews, block internet sites, censor music files, take away driving privileges, confiscate cell phones, demand social networking passowords and insist on group dating. I would rather buy take out then make green smoothies, let them quit their lesson rather then force them to see it through and watch them struggle with a new skill until they succeed. I would rather chose the popular way, the mom is awesome way, the easy way.

It is hard to be the parent sometimes.

So I pray for courage.

...And then I tiptoe hesitantly up to his bedroom door.

"Ben?"

He swings it open, grinning.

"Oh hi Mommy! I got the back of my plane to open and that is where the suitcases can go, see this cord? That is the gas station, it fills up the-"

"Hey Ben? why were you in your room?"

"Oh, um because I didn't make a good choice and I hit"

"That's right? What do you need to do now?"

I get a bear squeeze, Jacob gets a turn and we all get a lesson in airline travel playmobil style as though nothing happened at all.

"Hey Ben...um. If you had a favorite girl...who would that be?"

"Ohhhhh Mommy! That is so silly! Of course I do AND it's YOU!".

Whew.