By Jill Roberts / April 2, 2019
In my experience, once kids grow into teenagers, any chance you have as a parent to tell them what to do is pretty much over. They’re convinced they know it all, and would rather flail and sink in quick sand than reach for your hand to help. Instead of fighting it, I’ve chosen to take a comfortable position on the sideline, and allow them to take control over the decisions that impact their life.
I’ve likened my new role to the difference between coaching during practice and coaching during a game day. During practice, the pre-teen years, their Dad and I were responsible for teaching them the rules of the game, honing their skills, and instilling good conduct. Now as teenagers, we may call out a few plays or fowls here and there, but mostly we’re relying on everything we taught them in practice to come out in the game.
Time may uncover areas I could have done better as a parent; none of us are doing this entirely to perfection; But where I could shine, I believe I did. Sharing what I learned from my personal life experiences was the best way I knew how to prepare my sons for the world beyond our home. I may not hold my sons’ hands throughout their entire life, but with any luck, they’ll hold onto my words.
“It’s not your story to tell.” When my kids were little, as most kids do, they would innocently share conversations they overheard, or situations they observed that weren’t necessarily appropriate for repeating. Although I wanted them to feel comfortable talking freely with others, I didn’t want it to come at the expense of embarrassing someone else, or contributing to unnecessary gossip.
So, the agreement became, if you didn’t engage in the original conversation, or were present during the occurrence, then it wasn’t your story to tell. We’ve occasionally deliberated on exceptions, but for the most part, it’s the agreement we all continue to follow. It’s separated out the gossip, and made our conversations more productive and meaningful.
“Use your words.” I used this one a lot in the toddler years when they started to express frustration through action, like throwing a toy, or biting or hitting someone. In their moment of anger, I would make eye contact, and calmly say, “Use your words,” and then further explain that “I can’t help if I don’t understand why you’re upset.”
You’d be surprised how in tune a toddler is at knowing exactly what’s upsetting them. As silly as the issue often was–the shirt was the wrong color, the cat was sitting on their book, their brother had the fuzzy blanket, whatever it was, I would walk them through the process of finding a solution. As teenagers, I’m proud of how quickly they can navigate past negative feelings to uncover the true source of the issue.
“If you can’t find something, clean up.” Enforcing our kids to keep their rooms clean is a battle I’ve chosen not to fight. However, when they can’t find something, I don’t help them look for it. Instead, my response has been, “If you can’t find it, clean up.”
Nine times out of ten they’ll find what they’re looking for when they put things away and organize, rather than simply rummaging through piles. Eventually I hope they’ll find the merit in keeping their space organized. Until they do, I’ll keep proving me right.
“Don’t make a bad choice bigger.” During my oldest son’s first month of kindergarten, he and a few friends got sent to the Principal’s office for shoving peas and carrots in the cafeteria heater. They were sent to the Principal’s office where they stood–most likely in fear–before the Principal. A day or two later when I was at student pick-up, the Principal pulled me aside to remark how impressed he was at how well my son handled the situation. Apparently, not only did he immediately own up to it, and apologize, but he offered to clean the mess.
I still make foolish choices, so I can’t expect that my kids never would. Nor did I want them to be afraid of owning up to a mistake, for fear of punishment. Every mistake is an opportunity to learn a lesson; So, when they made one, we focused first on what they could do to make it better, and then considered what they could learn from it. Our poor choices don’t define our character as much as how we handle the aftermath.
“If something is important to someone you care about, it should be important to you.” This expression I still use when they start to roll their eyes about having to do something unrelated to their teenage life. Although, I no longer need to speak the words, because they’ve learned to interpret the message through my motherly stare. It serves as a reminder that not everything we do is about us.
The message that we uplift and support those around us I’d like to believe is instinctive; It just needs to be nurtured. Either way, I wanted them to recognize and appreciate those around them, who consistently showed support and took interest in their endeavors. As teenagers, they’re still working on this one, but at least for now, it’s enough to know that it’s something they consider.
“Things will look better in morning.” From the time my youngest could express worry and concern, whenever life threw him an unfortunate circumstance, he’d convince himself that his world was about to change in the worst way imaginable. It would most often happen when he was tired, just before bedtime. So, to calm his fears, I’d say, “Go to sleep; Things will look better in the morning.”
It took a few times, but eventually he discovered that things do appear more manageable after a night’s rest. No matter how bad a situation may look in the moment, bad days pass, and eventually time heals wounds. A simple phrase that is sometimes the only hope we have when faced with a difficult challenge.
“Don’t leave angry.” School mornings can be pretty hectic in our house. Everyone’s tired, no one can find what they need, and let’s face it, no one really wants to head off to school or work. Consequently, everyone’s “lose it” barometer is often at its peak on weekday mornings. Nevertheless, I demand a kiss and an “I love you” before watching them head off to school.
As the parent, I’ve initiated the tender good byes on those heated mornings; even when only moments earlier they may have set my blood to boil. Swallowing my pride doesn’t always happen with ease, but they’ll never learn to forgive, and move on, if they don’t learn it first at home.