Our house… was a very very very loud house…
With televisions in the living room, bedroom, and kitchen, simultaneously blaring sports, news, and cartoons. When Mom cooked, she often turned on the radio as well, singing while she rolled the meatballs. Dinner conversations were competitions: the most interesting, animated story won the attention. Instructions and anger had the same general volume; you could tell one from the other by facial expressions or whether Mom was chasing you with a spatula.
Early on, my husband and I decided our house would be a very very very calm house. My husband was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis when my son was three and my daughter was a newborn. In those first days, when he was fatigued all the time and his body was adjusting to the medications, I kept the house calm so he could rest. But we kept up the habit even when he felt better because I liked it. I liked that we didn’t generally snap, “Because I said so.” I liked that my kids not only knew the rules, but also the reason for the rules. I liked our family meetings, the logical consequences we imposed in place of swats.
Last month, I learned, to my endless amusement, that my very calm house had the exact same end result as the very loud house of my childhood.
My daughter had acted rudely at church, and later that afternoon, after my temper had passed, I called: “Sweetheart? Can you come here please? I need to speak with you.”
She plodded down the stairs and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. “I know, I know, you’re mad at me.”
“Why would you say that?” I asked. “I’m not yelling; I just asked you to come and talk.”
“I can always tell when you’re mad,” she said gloomily. “You put on this freaky calm voice… and then I know I’m really in trouble.”
My children are afraid of my calm voice!
It turns out that anger is anger and trouble is trouble, and our kids respond with dread and misery whether the message is delivered dolce pianissimo or spatula sforzando. (My son has said that he thinks spatula discipline would have been faster and more entertaining than our family meetings.)
So there you have it, moms: no matter how hard we try, we can’t get this parenting gig exactly right. All those decisions we agonize over: private school or public, piano lessons or soccer, work or stay home… there is no right and perfect answer. We are destined to give our kids at least a few minor scars; they are destined to write blogs making fun of our quirks. So I want to release us from a few burdens, give us permission to live differently, if only for just this one day.
A MOTHER’S DAY GIFT: YOU HEREBY HAVE PERMISSION TO LET ALL OF THESE THINGS GO-
Sanakurata1: photobucket.com
1. You remember that time, after repeated warnings, you actually DID pull over the car? I’d like to give you permission to let that little incident go. The kids had been screaming at each other for a solid hour, creating so much stress and chaos that they were a danger to you, themselves, and everyone else on the road. (You know those experts who wring their hands over people talking on their cell phones and driving at the same time? They should really be working on inventing backseat cones of silence for squabbling children.)
2. You remember that mom who called to tell you how her son had been accepted to Duke University, and went on and on about how schools were competing with scholarship offers, and then actually read one of the teacher recommendations aloud to you? I’d like to give you permission not to answer any more phone calls from this friend, at least for a while.
3 I’d also like to give you permission to realize that you’re stewing about your friend’s phone call, at least in part, because you’re sad your child will not be taking the university path, at least not for now. Realize that’s okay, and then let it go, because this is your son’s life, not yours. Remember Debbie Phelps – how one day she was cheering in the Olympic stands and her son was hanging gold medals around her neck and she was going on interviews and writing a book called A Mother for All Seasons? Really, didn’t you learn far more from her story, and somehow like her better, after her son was caught with the supersized bong? Our kids are free agents. They’ll make some good decisions and some bad decisions. It really doesn’t have anything to do with us. You really can let them go.
4. I know you’re facing a few worrisome challenges, but just for today, I’d like to give you permission to get a good night’s sleep, to not wake up in a 3 a.m. panic wondering what might happen next week or next month or a year from now. Look back at your journal from five years ago, and notice how you devoted nine pages – nine! – to the time when your son was not invited to a friend’s birthday party. Yes, this was anguish at the time, and your son was genuinely sad. But all that angst, all that speculation about what you or your son might have done to warrant the exclusion, all that worrying over whether to say something to the mom… good Lord, what did it gain? You’ve got to appreciate the irony that you would not even remember this incident if you had not recorded it in such excruciating detail. Here’s betting that five years from now, you won’t be able to remember what was keeping you up at 3 a.m. last night either.
5. I’d like to give you permission to feel good about a few really tough things you seem to have survived. Remember how when you were young, and you were crying because your dad had yelled at you, and he would say, “You want me to give you something to cry about?” Ironic question, really, since you were already crying, but isn’t it interesting how you’ve always been a worrier, and now it’s like life itself has said, “You want me to give you something to worry about?” Well, all that stuff you were afraid of, all that trouble you were trying to avoid by being a very, very good mom – those things have happened. And it was not, in fact, the end of the world! You’re still walking around. You’re still laughing with your husband. You’re still enjoying your music and movies and a good hard run around the park. You know all those women you admire because they’ve persevered through something really hard? Guess what – in a small way, that’s you! So give yourself a pat on the back, an imaginary medal, a little flower from your garden. You’re stronger than you thought.
6. Last thing – and I know this is the hardest one – I want to give you permission to feel hopeful. You’ve gotten some good news lately, and you also have at least one extravagant dream. I want that to be okay today. You can share these hopes without knocking on wood or rubbing the little amulet from Greece, the one that’s supposed to ward off the evil eye. Speaking the dreams aloud will not prevent them from happening. And if neither of them materialize, so what? Will you feel any less disappointed because you denied yourself some small measure of happiness today? Relax, drink a sip of wine, close your eyes, picture better times, and smile. A little hope has never killed anything, least of all a dream.
We’re flawed humans first, moms and dads second, and we’re not going to do the job perfectly. But if we love our kids, and try to do our best by them, that is entirely good enough. They will take it from here. Over and again on OS, we send each other hugs, hopes for peace, gentle thoughts. How about we take this one day and send a little of that same compassion out to ourselves? What burdens do you need to give yourself permission to release today? It’s a gift you really need and deserve, and it’s one you can only give to yourself.
Happy Mother’s Day.
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Ann Nichols
AtHomePilgrim
benjamin_the_donkey
froggy
The Yellow Starlings
gracielou
Salon.com
Comments
Happy Mother's Day to you!
I hope you have a wonderful Mother's Day.
Monte
Monte, thank you, I have become tired of my own doom and gloom – which I think is an important spiritual insight!
Hi Fab – what fun! Post about your evening!
Oh, and this:
It turns out that anger is anger and trouble is trouble, and our kids respond with dread and misery whether the message is delivered dolce pianissimo or spatula sforzando.
reminds me of how funny it was to hear my French friend scream and yell at her kids in French. I didn't understand a word as she "spoke" to them in my foyer, but I sure knew they were getting it. And I thought to myself, "That's funny; a mad mom sounds the same in every language!." :)
HB - I am so happy for you that your daughter gets to move into an apartment and try life on her own. What a huge step - congratulations!
Lainey, I'll give you a rubber stamp with my signature. I'm betting that moms sound much more sophisticated when they lose their temper in French. I'd really like to have heard that one!
Thanks for the permission to let all of that unnecessary stuff go. Happy Mother's Day to you!
Amen sister! It took me many a sleepless night to learn that one. Great parenting advice wrapped up in a great post.