Walking a Tightrope

One of the more difficult aspects of my parenting journey thus far has been unlearning and relearning parenting strategies. I'm finding that many of my automatic, default reactions are (NEWSFLASH!) not gentle, kind, patient or loving. I'm finding that when I am inconvenienced, embarrassed, or otherwise frustrated by my children's misbehaviour, my instinct is to do something that will make them as miserable as I'm feeling in that moment - withdraw my affection, take away something they enjoy, lash out in anger so they realize just how serious their infractions are... you get the idea. Giving in to my initial instinct may cause a temporary course correction, but I'm finding that we end up much further off-course in the long run - less connected, and not much better behaved.

So, I've been trying to unlearn my natural tendencies and relearn correcting strategies that keep me connected to my kids. The learning curve is steep - most of the time I feel like I'm trying to swim uphill through mud - but the view is increasingly spectacular! One of our recent issues has been learning the art of departing well. Whether it's Heritage Park, church, or Grandma & Grandpa's house, the kids have been digging in their heels when it comes time to go home. Since I don't believe that forcing them in to their carseats is going to bring about the long-term results we're hoping for (read: they're getting bigger and stronger and can get themselves out of their carseats), we've had to dig deep for a strategy that will keep us connected, but will result in actually being able to leave a fun place in a sane manner. We tried bribes and threats (stay tuned for a future post on the use of consequences!) but found that the only thing that mattered to them was squeezing a few extra minutes out of the experience. I tried a creative approach - I suggested that we could pretend the van is a train and they could be the passengers waiting on a platform. The flatbed trailer at my parents' place was the perfect pretend platform, I figured... This approach had minimal success, as once they were on the trailers they couldn't quite see the point of getting in the van.

Time to dig a little deeper. In the process of preparing to teach Empowered to Connect, I was reminded of the importance of being proactive in our parenting. We need to prepare our kids for transitions. Practice beforehand. Think ahead to difficult situations and talk through how they're going to go before we get there. As the old adage goes - "an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." I'm trying to remember to discuss my expectations with the kids beforehand, and ask them for ideas as to how we can make it go better. We're starting to see some encouraging results.

The other thing that has occurred to me is that leaving somewhere they really love (like grandparents' homes) could feel like a huge loss to them. We see Brian's parents a few times a year, but those months in between could feel like an eternity to a pre-schooler. We have the privilege of living 15 minutes away from my folks, and we usually see them at least once a week. In the winter, though, they head to Phoenix to escape the cold and we only get to see them on Skype while they're gone. Perhaps the kids have a subconscious fear that saying goodbye to Grandma and Grandpa could mean a really long separation. While this is not an excuse to be stubborn and disobedient when it's time to go home, it can help us as parents be understanding and compassionate as we seek to correct the behaviour. We're currently experimenting with a 'leaving ritual' that involves remembering our favourite parts of the day and looking forward to our next visit. Hopefully that will help a little.

In the meantime, we will continue to walk the tightrope between nurture and structure. Striving to maintain our compassion and understanding as we guide our children. Reminding ourselves of their preciousness when we are faced with their naughtiness. Building healthy boundaries and firm structures that will encourage good behaviour. And every time we fall off the tightrope by losing our compassion or by neglecting structure, by the grace of God we'll climb back on and try it again.

Someday...

Brian and I were in BC, on the lower mainland, for an adoption conference this past weekend. We found ourselves starting sentences with "Someday..." We talked about our 10th anniversary, only 2 years away. We talked about holidays we'd like to go on with (and without!) the kids. In short, we were dreaming. Thinking of all the great places in the world we'd like to see and experience.

Then we heard some amazing stories. One woman in particular, Kim England, said something that made me stop and think. She was telling us how God led their family to adoption. And how, with 4 biological children, they adopted a sibling group of 4 boys! She shared some of the craziness, then she told us what her husband says when they are faced with the reality of how much their life has changed. He says, "Living out a miracle is way better than living out a dream." I started thinking, and the more I thought about it, the more I liked it.

I thought about the typical dreams many of us have. Dreams for ourselves and our families. Dreams about vacations and homes and wardrobes. Dreams about fame and fortune and accomplishments. Then I thought about the lives that inspire me. People who have sacrificed comfort and "freedom 55" and many other things we've been taught to expect. People who have stepped in to the brokenness of our world and are making a difference for the hurting and the vulnerable. People like Kim and her husband who are witnessing miracles - watching the transformation as children learn to trust, experiencing the love of their very own family.

I'm not against dreams - they can focus, motivate and challenge us. I'm just wondering if our dreams are too small, if they limit us sometimes. Are we so focused on where we hope to be in the future that we're missing out on stuff right now? Are there miracles right under our noses? My prayer is that my eyes will be opened to what God has for me today, that I'll be able to see and be a part of the miracles He's performing, and that my dreams will start to reflect His heart.