When it comes to parenting, it feels like it's all just a big experiment. So much of what I do is just a best guess. I know there are a lot of things I'm good at as a mom. There are also a lot of things I'm bad at. Then there's that gray area where I'm just really unsure. I could be doing the right thing, or I could be doing the wrong thing depending on the child and the circumstances. What's right for one of my kids might be the worst thing I could do for one of my other kids.
The other day I was thinking about some of my parenting techniques and wondering if I've done okay so far. My kids are pretty decent, but I don't know how much credit I deserve for that and how much is just their nature or dumb luck. There's also the fact that they could change at any moment. The principal at the junior high jokes about (but is also very serious about) how your kid that has always been well-behaved could easily become a monster when they hit those crucial developmental phases of middle school.
Time will tell if I've made good parenting choices. There are plenty of things I wish I could go back and fix, but all I can do is keep moving forward and use my best judgement.
Looking back, I have a few experiences from my younger years that I think have influenced the type of parent I've become.
The first is when I was a kid, and my step-sister tried smoking. She told her mom (my step-mom) what she’d done, and my step-mom didn't freak out. I remember being blown away when I learned that Liz had smoked and voluntarily told her mom! I didn't know that moms could choose to not be mad. That they could just say something like, "I'm glad you told me, and I hope you don't do it again."
The next experience was when Scotty and I were dating. I was probably about 16, and we went to a birthday party at Scotty's cousins' house. Scotty's cousins were known to be a bit rowdy, and the Birthday Boy (who was turning 18) and some friends were rough housing when one of them got slammed into a wall and put a big hole in it. I saw it happen, and I thought Scotty's aunt was going to lose it on those boys. She didn't, though. She just said, "Alright, you idiots. Go outside." She sent them in the backyard, and the party went on. Maybe she came unleashed later when there wasn't an audience, but in the moment, she stayed very calm, and I was in utter shock.
The third experience was shortly after I graduated high school. I hung out a lot with my friend, Ted, who was the oldest in his family. The boys were rowdy in the same way Scotty's cousins were rowdy (in fact they had the same family configuration of three boys and a girl - same order). When I would go to Ted's house, his brothers would literally bounce off the walls. They would climb on stuff and jump onto their giant bean bag chair. They ran free all over the place doing what we now would label "parkour." There was so much energy and craziness in that house, and I was in awe of it and kind of loved it! Ted's parents were so chill and unfazed by it. They probably needed to crack down on it a little (I don't know how any of those kids turned out because I didn't keep in contact with Ted or his family after I got married), but they exposed me to an alternative way to react to chaos.
All three of these experiences showed me calmness, and I don't know what kind of parent I would have become if I didn't have exposure to these situations. They really impacted me, but I didn't realize it at a conscious level. Then one day, when Nicky and Daisy were little, I had a friend and her children over to play in the sprinklers. As the kids played in the water, Nicky took his towel with him, super hero cape style, and ran through the sprinklers, resulting in getting his towel soaked. My friend gasped and gripped my leg and said, "How are you being so chill about this?" She explained that if her kids got their towels wet in the sprinklers, she would be so angry. I hadn't given it a second thought. I just figured if Nicky's towel was wet, and he wanted a dry one, he would learn to not run through the sprinklers with his towel. I didn't see the need to scold him over it.
None of that is to say that I haven't ever lost my cool or overreacted. I do plenty of that. But I also have moments where I remain calm.
Like when Nicky rammed his head into the wall while running down the stairs.
Or when Nicky rammed his head into the wall after spinning in circles for too long:
Or when Nicky rammed his knee into the wall while trying on his mission pants.
Hopefully someday I can hand him a tub of mud and say, “Go fix all the damage you caused!” In the meantime, if my kids aren’t afraid to tell me they put a hole in the wall, that’s not a bad thing. Hopefully I won’t have to repair too much damage I’ve caused.
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