Just Like Mom Said

I spent so much time trying not to be like my mom that I never realized until recently that she was actually right. Okay, she was right about a lot of things, not about everything. See, you have to know where I’m coming from. My mother was always a proponent of “spare the rod, spoil the child.” If it wasn’t the belt, it was the paddle, and if it wasn’t the paddle, it was the yardstick. Yes, the yardstick. And even though the spankings were effective, I told myself I would never hit my child for any reason. I was wrong. My mother also believed strongly in making sure we ate everything on our plates, because there were “starving children in Africa.” I’m sure you’ve heard that one. As sympathetic as I am to the plight of emaciated Ethiopians, I didn’t think I would get hung up on making sure my kids ate everything on their plates. I was wrong there too. And my mother trained us from day one to be family-centered. To her, our immediate family, our extended family, and their families were really important. We couldn’t lose touch with them. I will admit that I didn’t appreciate that closeness until I voluntarily separated myself from my family and they were still there when I needed them. Again, I was wrong.

“I know I believed everything others told me about my family instead of remembering what really happened and how it happened.”

It seems to me like most kids rebel. Either they didn’t like the way they were brought up, they thought the grass was indeed greener on the other side, or other people told them that all parents screw up their kids and they believed it. I know I believed everything others told me about my family instead of remembering what really happened and how it happened. Now, I’m not saying my family life was perfect. Far from it. But it wasn’t the horrendous life I had painted it to be for so long. Sure, I didn’t get all the attention I craved, and of course we didn’t have much in the way of possessions, but we had solid love, commitment, and what we truly needed.

As a parent myself now, I find that I am much more grateful for my mother and all that she gave to me. Yes, even for the spankings. I think it’s because I can honestly see where she was coming from, especially as I move into middle age, and as my children grow older themselves. I was apparently a terror when I was young, and I needed a firm hand to help guide me. Talking and trying to reason with me didn’t work. Making deals didn’t work. And letting me make my mistakes to try and let them teach me didn’t work. I would just do the same things regardless. My mom had to find the way that would deter me from doing the same things again. Physical pain was a true deterrent, the only one that would work for me, so I’m glad she used it now. Everyone needs to learn how to be disciplined, to know the difference between how we behave in certain situations, and that’s how I was finally taught. I’m happy for how I turned out, and I’m grateful my mother found a way to get me there, even if I hated it at the time.

“Everyone needs to learn how to be disciplined, to know the difference between how we behave in certain situations…”

My oldest child is just like I was then. She is incredibly willful, and we were working through ways to help her understand, and to get her that discipline and forethought. It’s not easy, but we’re doing basically what my mother did with me. Trying out anything that might work, analyzing the results, and trying another way if the first didn’t work. Then doing it all over again. Right now we’re utilizing a series of rule violations that result in loss of privileges and gaining of household chores if she gets enough rule violations. It has taken a lot of tinkering, but I think this one is working effectively enough for now. The key, though, is in the analysis portion of it. And yes, I’m hoping it won’t come down to spankings with her, but I have not ruled it out. If it’s the one way that will work, I wouldn’t rule it out.

Both of my children are picky eaters, just like me. And as much as I whined about my mother making me clean my plate at meals, it was nothing compared to how much my daughters can’t stand certain foods. So, instead of fighting hard to make them eat all kinds of vegetables, we focus on the ones they seem to be able to tolerate, and they do clean their plates of them. Some things aren’t worth the battle. Honestly. But they’re getting their vegetables and eating a balanced diet. That’s the point. And those starving children in Africa are still starving, but at least my children are eating a balanced meal, and not wasting food. That’s all I can ask of them.

And of course, case in point, my oldest and I just played a rousing game of Super Mario Bros. Wii. We had fun, we had teamwork, and we did a pretty good job, but when it was time for us to quit (we have mandated time limits) she decided to throw a fit. Now, I remembered my mother’s use of losing privileges when we had sour attitudes, so I told her no more Wii for the evening. She is fuming right now, but she will realize eventually (she’s pretty smart) that if she wants to play her game again anytime soon she will have to fix the attitude. That bypasses the rule violations and goes to automatic privilege loss, and for good reason, just like if she uses physical aggression against others. I know I never used my hands against others, and I think it had to do with what I felt were punishments. Rewards never worked with me, and they usually don’t with my children either.

So my mom was right, and she often tells me when I’m miffed over something my children have done, “See, now you know how it feels,” and I just nod along. Then I wait for the next thing to prove my mother right.

Sam

On Parenting and Parenthood