I Am a Struggling Parent, And Why That's Awesome

It took my by surprise. Blew my mind, actually. I was sitting in Relief Society (that's a meeting for women in my church,) and sharing what our family does for Family Home Evening, and the teacher (who I like) told me, in front of the whole class, that I was doing it wrong. There it was, my least favorite phrase: "Wait until they're teenagers."

Least Helpful Words Ever

I hate hearing this because there's either no hope for me or there seems to be a melancholy satisfaction in the speaker when they say it. They expect, quite triumphantly, that I won't do any better than they did. It's irritating, disheartening and unnecessary, but mostly it's false.

That's right, Their assumption is false because it is based on exactly that--assumption. They don't have a full picture of what goes on at home and cannot possibly know how my kids are going to turn out. I haven't the least wish to compare myself to others--as if anyone could do it accurately! Even if parenting were a contest, I wouldn't take my coaching from the spectators. My children, husband and God know best what I do right and wrong. They're in this with me, and they understand the context of my decisions.

"Wait until you have teenagers." The phrase is annoying. Being called out in front of the class was not my favorite. But the biggest problem here is the erroneous idea that there is only one right way to parent; only one right way to have family home evening; only one right way to raise kids who don't fall away. (I'll come back to this falling away thing.)

The Story

There I was, sitting with all these lovely Christian women as they shared personal insights. I shared too. I admitted that I struggle with planning our FHE ahead of time and I mentioned that we typically don't do a treat or activity. I said that we make it as easy and simple as possible, so we can make sure it happens.

Apparently, this is wrong. Because I said that I struggled, they assumed that I wasn't consistent, even though we have Family Home Evening every week. Because I said I struggled, they assumed I wasn't doing a good job. Because I said I struggled, they assumed I was failing and that my children wouldn't learn the gospel.

This is wrong. Assuming is inaccurate, and we need to deal with some definitions here.

What Struggle Is Not

Struggle does not mean inconsistent. Struggle does not mean poor quality. Struggle does not mean neglect. Struggle means it was HARD. That's it. And it is hard.

What Struggle Is

Planning ahead does not come naturally to me. I'm not great planner, but even I know that the lesson comes out better if I prepare even one hour in advance. Planning is a struggle. It does not mean I've given up. In fact, to struggle is the OPPOSITE of giving up. If you gave up, that would be the end of that struggle.

Irritated Rant

And who decided that Family Home Evening had to be done the same way every time and by every family? Who decided that it had to follow a set pattern without variation? I find that boring, unnecessary and impractical. We have only ONE unassailable rule for our parenting and our Family Home Evening: We do what works. What works in one family may not work in another. What works for us now may not work later. Our plans change based on our family's needs. I think this will work forever, because we only do what works.

What I Shared in Class

We keep it simple. Simplicity in parenting is a goal, not an unfortunate by-product of laziness. It's a struggle to make simplicity out of chaos, but it's important to our mental health. I'm busy and can think of no benefit of making myself and everyone else grumpy.

I shared that we don't do treats and activities most of the time. I never said it was an accident, that I didn't feel good about it or that I wanted it to change. Because I don't. We choose not to do a treat because we care about our health and the obesity epidemic. It is by design that we make treats the exception and not the rule. Additionally, sometimes it's a struggle, but I don't want to teach my kids that FHE is just for the treat. I wan't to teach them that we love our family and we love Jesus. We don't always do activities because we don't always have time. This is also a struggle---and why we need simplicity. It doesn't mean that we don't spend time together doing fun things as a family throughout the week. We do. And the lack of constant treats and activities doesn't mean that my kids don't enjoy our family night. They love it. (We cuddle for most of it.)

But, "Wait until you have teenagers." As if that means the kids will rebel and leave the church, and if they do, that means failure.

Practicable Priorities

I think we need to rediscover our priorities here. I'm placing a higher priority on the Who, What and Why, of family and gospel living, and less on the How, When and Where. My priority is not to have a "perfect" family night or a "perfect" family. My priority is not even that the kids won't leave the church. My priority is to love, teach, guide and help them have their own relationship with God. When they can feel God's love, when they know that He is real, when they can talk to Him and receive answers from Him as with a best friend, they will know what to do to be happy. They will do it because they want to. Or, they won't.

It's great to be organized, to plan and have a routine. It's wonderful if you can have an orderly, meeting where everything is planned and done right. However, if your priority is to have a perfectly executed Family Home Evening, you are placing your dependence on what other people will and will not do. This is even more true for kids falling away, or not falling away. If this is your priority, you may be disappointed.

The Illusion of Control

We don't have robot children. We have actual people and whatever their size, they resist being controlled. The older they get, the more they resist. This is partially why some parents dread having teens. There is not now and never will be a guarantee that our children will want the same things that we want or will do the same things that we do. They might, but it's up to them.

Parents have zero control over how their kids will turn out. They can teach, they can persuade, they can love and they can still fail, whatever their definition of failure is. On the other side of the coin, they can be abusive, cruel and neglectful and still have great kids who stay out of trouble and eventually, after much therapy, grow up to be happy, productive members of society. It's not common, but I've seen it happen. (I'm not advocating abuse here.) Generally speaking, the more you try to control, the less you are able to. Luckily for us as parents, we don't have to do the control thing.

Parents have healthy influence over their children's choices, inasmuch as their children want to please their parents. This comes without force and is a product of love and trust, similarly to how we want to serve Christ because of what He has done for us. "We love Him, because he first loved us." (John 4:19.)

I don't want my kids to get into trouble, and I hope they will find joy in the Church as I do. But I will not force them. Indeed, I can think of nothing more disastrous. The greatest gift of the gospel is the Atonement, which gives us our agency. We love agency. We, as humans crave it. I find that the truest part of parenting is that people will do what they choose, and they choose primarily what they want.

Influence And Logic

 My personal parenting philosophy is that kids should be taught as early as possible how to make good decisions on their own, which is one reason to hold a weekly Family Home Evening. I teach them about consequences so they can choose which consequences they want. They will struggle and it is good for them because they're learning self-control. (!!!) I hug my kids and tell them how great they are. I listen to their problems so that they know I'm their ally and not their enemy. Instead of blaming and punishing, we work on solving problems and learning from mistakes. We're flexible with Family Home Evening and other meetings and don't demand a rigid discipline on holding still or attentive listening. They're so young---and, let's face it, adults don't even hold perfectly still or listen all the time. We want them to like it, not be bored or nitpicked.

They do what I ask because they love me. Or, they do exactly as they please because they're human. If it's not irrevocable, I let it go. It's hard. It's a struggle but I trust them to find their way, and they're getting good practice. Will this guarantee that I have super docile teenagers? Probably not. I expect them to push back. I expect not to always enjoy it. But I also believe that they will turn out great and I tell them so. Basically, I follow my heart, and the Spirit.

And I actually love teenagers.

(I was a really nice teenager. Karma, you know.)

The Struggle Is Real

I am struggling though. Sticking to my decisions, following through with my plans, not throwing charity out the window on a stressful day, is difficult. Getting up each day and trying again, trying to better myself and realize my goals, trying to keep it all together and be there for my family, is exhausting. Trying to obey all the commandments and doing volunteer service, plus being patient in affliction and keeping my temper, is tough. Being patient with people when they make mistakes, trying to set a good example for others while not judging them or preaching at them, admitting when I am wrong, can be hard. Cooking three meals a day, while trying to stay on top of the laundry, dishes, pet care, errands, carpool, extracurricular activities, homework and still be willing to drop everything to listen to my son talk about how his day went, is a miracle.

Trying to be a sweet and accepting wife, and hardworking human being, and a clean, well-groomed, social and sane individual, while punctually balancing everything else I need to do, (read, budget,) is tricky. Fitting in a workout and a scripture study, is hard. Yes, I struggle, and that doesn't mean I'm failing. It means I'm a rockstar. It means I get up and do it again.  It means I'm a good mom. It means that nobody can do it better. I've got the Who,Why and What figured out. I will cut me some slack and the How, Where and When.

I'm Not The Mom I Planned On Becoming

If there were such a thing as perfect parents, our kids would develop a false impression of the world and unhealthy expectations for themselves. Good thing we never come close. If there's one thing I've learned, it is that failure is good. Allowing our kids to fail helps them learn. Allowing our kids to see us fail, helps them develop realistic expectations about themselves and other people. Parenting is a balancing act and sometimes "we all fall down." I sort of wish I'd known that earlier in life. Then again, it might have reduced some of my most glorious failures. Epic, you might say.

I always wanted to be a mom. As a kid, I got into the habit of taking care of people when they were sick, and giving them hugs when they were sad. I learned how to talk to kids so they would understand. I taught my younger siblings how to write their names. My mother saw to it that I became an expert diaper changer, and tried her best to make me a good housekeeper. I read books on child rearing, health and nutrition, education, discipline and fun craft ideas.

Pity it did me no good. Any head start I ever had on the whole mom thing was screamed and diaper-changed out of me in the first week of motherhood.

 Back to square one. Never mind what all the other babies like. What does this baby like? This baby liked being held at all times. This baby cried from boredom and hated being alone. (Funny. He still does.) This baby made me take all of my parenting theories and throw them out the window. Here are some examples.

1. I will never yell. My child will learn how to handle anger and other emotions from watching me and I must set a good example. 

Whoever came up with that one is living inside a rainbow made of flowers and fairy dust. Or they just never had kids. Infinite patience does exist, but mortals don't have it. Should we yell all the time? No. Should we try to keep our cool? Yes. But here's the deal. The kid's job is to find out what your limits are. They will never stop pushing until they find it. We are human. We fail, often miserably.

Here's what I learned: If I learn my own limits, (often thanks to my son's prodding,) I can set healthier ones that never approach the screaming zone. If I must yell, I can leave the room.

What happens when I fail in all my ambitions and yell in spite of myself? I am teaching my children that people are not perfect, but they can say sorry and try to do better. I am also teaching them how to get along in a society of imperfect people. Learning that other people have anger and limits is a benefit for kids.


2. If I never hit, my kids will never learn to hit.

Wrong. Both my kids started hitting at about nine months and I don't know where they learned it. They were hitting me. I thought with my first one that if I never reacted, he would get bored and stop eventually. Not so much. My son's hitting continued until he got a firm swat on his hindquarters. Then it was over. He had found the boundary. That seems backwards, doesn't it? Actually, it's just teaching natural consequences. He can learn in the safety of his own home that he can't go around hitting people. (I did teach my kids that they can stand up for themselves if they get bullied. They are, in effect, teaching natural consequences to other kids when they do. The idea that self defense is "bullying back" is all nonsense.)

3. If I Never Buy Toy Guns, They Will Never Play Fighting Games

Well, they didn't learn it from me. But they did learn it. My sons played Army, Cops and Robbers, Cowboys, Pirates and every other game that involved fighting. They made action figures fight each other. As there were no toy weapons in the house, they used their fingers as a guns and pointed them at me. Bang goes that theory.

What I learned: They're boys and inherently interested in fighting and protecting. One will make a great Jedi someday (that's what he wants to be.) The other might be a ninja. (What does a ninja do, anyway?) Or maybe he'll be a brilliant military serviceman or law enforcement officer. As long as he uses his powers for good and doesn't go to the Dark Side, it's alright with me.

4. I'm Going to Be Such a Fun Mom

If chores and homework are fun, then yes. Actually, I am pretty fun, but not as often as they or I would like. We go to museums, farms, games, movies zoos, aviaries. We have picnics and outings. We have read-a-thons and awesome pretend games. But we also have work to do, things to learn and bills to pay. I can't always be with them. (I have a job, need breaks, and they don't always want me.) And I say no. A lot. (Candy is bad for you! I'm sorry!)

What I learned: Cleaning house can be fun too. If I can teach my children to be glad in work and play, to entertain themselves, to come up with fun ideas on their own, and to keep a house and budget in order, I am preparing them for a good future.

5. It Will Be Easy to Tell When Discipline is Necessary And When Not

Fact: I struggle with it all the time. The balancing act again. Did he do that just to be mean or does he have some other reason? Is this really a big deal? Did he really even do it? Maybe he needs to learn these consequences on his own. They will work it out by themselves. Maybe I should just give him a break. I would hate to be in trouble all the time. The thing is, I thought I would be a lot more strict than I am. I hate giving punishments. I would rather listen, reason, explain, hope for the best, and give another chance. They really do want to make me happy.

What I learned:  Most of my kids' naughties don't require any reaction from me because they are just not very important. Sometimes they just want to make me laugh. Often, they want my attention. Like me, kids need to make mistakes in order to learn. As they grow, so does their agency. They need to practice using their agency because they have a whole lifetime of decision making ahead of them. Basically, my job is to teach correct principles so they can govern themselves.

6. Parenting Will Be Hard

You have no idea! I had no idea how hard it was until I did it. I've been doing it for seven years and it still throws me curve balls. Every day. I have rarely spent so much time running, or on my knees. There's always a bigger question, always a greater challenge. The fact that we've made it this far is nothing short of a miracle.

What I'm learning: I can do hard things. Sometimes I look ahead into an uncertain future and think, There's no way I can do this. Later on, I look back and think, I can't believe we did this. I am not alone. God, angels, my husband and a host of other moms and dads have got my back. We can do this.


Am I a good mom? I'll just ask my kids.

They say, "Yes, because you feed us" and "I like Mommy because she's nice, but she spends too much time on the computer." (And "My feet are messing up the bed because they're too strong. I need different feet. Somebody needs to take me to the feet store and take these ones off and put new ones on. I know why they're so strong. It's because I ate so much salad.") There you have it. Even in my failures, I am still being a good mom. And it's time to get off the computer.

Happy Crazy Backwards Day--True Confessions of a Working Mom

Being a mom is hard work. Being a Mormon mom is a blessing with lots of responsibility. Being a working Mormon mom is like trying to juggle EVERYTHING! Show up. Look nice. Be nice. Get the job done. Try and keep your priorities straight.

 I love being a wife, a mom and a Mormon. Especially with angelic help, which I believe I am entitled to. I  try hard. I really do. HOWEVER, sometimes, I get a little mixed up. Or a lot mixed up. And it's usually funny. (If it's not funny now, it will be in ten years.) If I can't be perfect, I am at least going to laugh. Here's a story of how all my ambitions and good intentions went completely backwards.

 The backwardness actually started with my working all night, and then going to bed while my family was waking up. Things just got crazier from there. I sat around all day trying to wake up and forgot to eat, so I was starving by the time I left my home, where my husband was MAKING DINNER, to go hang out with some girlfriends, where I knew there would be no food. I even had a headache coming on. That backwardness was just the beginning. I realized that I had forgotten my sewing machine, that my hair and makeup were not done, and I was headed to a craft night with two very pretty ladies who never forgot to do their hair and makeup. This is going to be good.

When I arrived at my friend's house, I found that no one was at home, they all having gone to the fabric store. One friend had sent me a text of the change of plans but it was unclear to me (probably I was reading it backwards) and the other friend's text ended up somewhere in Hawaii (where I would like to be but in the interest of opposites, reversals and backwardness, I was not there to receive my text.) My husband advised me to come home and bring back a movie for us to watch together. At that point, I really wanted to, but my friends felt so bad for the crazy communication that leaving now would have been cruel and insulting.

I sat there in my car, watching the house and being as creepy as possible. (Actually, I was watching Internet videos and so missed the exact moment of arrival.) After forty minutes of this, I finally went inside and had a great time eating candy and popcorn for a nutritious dinner and watching the same movie I would have seen with my husband that night. No crafts after all. Once the movie was over, I declared that I needed to go home, sent a text to my husband to that effect, and then proceeded to stay another twenty minutes.

 Having asked hubby to get a movie for us to watch, I went home expecting to snuggle up in my messy house. What I found was a much tidier house than I had left. Backwards, but a good backwards. There was no movie. I checked my phone, (which had been on silent the entire night!) and found a message from my love, asking me to get the movie, as the kids were in bed. There was no time for it anyway. Oh, well. Might as well go to sleep, which he immediately did. Having slept all that morning, a REM cycle was much more difficult for me to achieve. I knew I was going to be up late, which was bad, because I expected company in the following early afternoon and the house was not up to par. I finally drifted off into a troubled dream state and that was the official start of my Crazy Backwards Day.

The alarm must have rung eighty times before my husband got up and took our oldest son to school. The knowledge that my youngest boy would tear apart the whole house in short order was enough to drag me out of bed too. Hubby and Denny were gone and hot cereal was on the table. Perhaps it was a nod to Opposites Day but whatever the reason, my husband had switched the bowls--not the portions, just the dishes around, giving the toddler a giant bowl and reserving the baby bowl for me. Good, I thought, I'm just going to embrace it all. If this is backwards day, bring it on.

I ate my breakfast, calling down blessings upon my hubby's head for it, and then decided to clean the house. I was totally exhausted, but GUESTS WERE COMING and the house must be in order. I started by unloading the dishwasher of all the dirty dishes that I had put in there clean the day before. (Backwards is beautiful.) I planned the meal I would cook, (pasta with homemade sausage) and grabbed all the grody towels and stuffed them into the washer. I went to dress and was combing my hair when a ginormous wave of fatigue jumped on my face and beat me into submission.

"You need a haircut and a bath," I told my son as I changed back into my pajamas. "I'll cut your hair in a little while" and I lay down on top of the blankets in my unmade bed. "You have time to get some cleaning done while Mommy is napping." With that, I slept like a baby, which means I woke up all the time and screamed. "Leave the fridge alone! Don't break that! Turn the water off! Did you clean your room? That's too loud!"

I eventually got up. It was time to pick up my son from school, so naturally, I started frantically cleaning my house again. After a while, I knew that my guests would be arriving, so I immediately left the house. They texted me that they were running late. Perfect. Me too. I picked up my son, and returned home to find peeps on my porch. They looked surprised to see me in my pajamas but I just smiled and asked if they'd been waiting long. Once we got inside, I wanted to be the best host ever, so I left them all alone in the living room while I changed into slacks and a sweater.

The house was presentable, sort of. The bathroom was cleaner than it looked and the living room looked cleaner than it was. I started making a late lunch and needed my apron, only to remember that it was still in the washer. I didn't get a chance to talk much. My kids were doing plenty of that anyway. My four-year-old got so excited that he kept shouting. Every time he did this, he disturbed the baby, which disturbed his mama, which disturbed all of us. Things were going great.

After a while, my guests said they had to go visit other friends and so departed with hugs. My oldest son burst out crying because they couldn't stay, and screamed after they left because nobody would leave him alone. He got a timeout and then we ate our pasta and sausage by ourselves. It was delicious. Heedless of the cold outside, my boys ate huge glasses of ice and played Ghost in the Graveyard in daylight.

This has been about the best Backwards Day ever, although, my poor guests got the brunt of it. Someday I'll have them over again and I will be at home, on time, and dressed. The only thing I want to do now is watch the second half of a girly movie and then cuddle to sleep with my love.

 My boss just asked me to come in for an evening shift. I guess I'd better change into my work clothes. Now if I can just pull these pants over my head and work my feet through the sleeves of my work shirt, I'll be set. I'll head to my job as soon as hubby gets home from his. When I come back, I'm starting this day over. When you run a backwards day in reverse, it comes out right. (If you get enough sleep.)