Conflicted Parenting

Someday I’m going to write a book called “The Conflicted Parent.”

No matter what parenting Bible you follow—Babywise or attachment, Love & Logic or Rosemond—no matter how religiously you stick with it—you will always find yourself chewing your fingernails and second-guessing yourself. Any parent who claims otherwise is either a liar or delusional.

Having a strong-willed child is a real mind-stretcher for me. I can’t tell you how many times a day I think, What the….? When I was a kid, I’m absolutely positive I never did ___________. When I was a kid, if I was told to do something, by golly I did it. I did it with much muttering and gum-gnashing, but I did it. I ate what was put in front of me, I cleaned my room, I stopped talking, I got off the phone—and when they said “wait,” I waited.

How, I wonder, did my parents accomplish such a feat?

Then again, maybe my hard drive is faulty. Was I actually a holy terror and I just don’t remember it?

I really don’t think so. I think I was a child with a strong desire to please, and so I was—in the main, anyway—fairly cooperative. (Except for that one time when I pounded a hole in the outside wall of my bedroom. But that’s another story.)

For the most part, I’m the same way as an adult. I have my opinions and beliefs about the way things should go. I’m not a wind sock, flapping this way and that in the winds of other people’s opinions. But more often than not, I can go with the flow. Assuming there is one.

Which means I have no earthly idea how to deal with Alex. I know it’s about consequences and sticking to them. I know that even if he never does what I asked him to do, as long as there was a consequence, he’s learned the lesson. Although if that’s the case, why does he keep having to learn the same lesson over and over.

It just seems like all of life is a battle unless he gets his way. Don’t get me wrong, he’s frequently very sweet, and lots of fun to be around. It’s not like his demands are universally inappropriate. And, like every other parent, I love to give my children what they want—as often as it is good for them.

But this kid doesn’t take “no” for an answer, and that sets up a battle royale—over stupid stuff. Like: “I want my movie RIGHT NOW, not in fifteen minutes!” Like, “I want juice, even though I never finished my milk at breakfast.” Like, “I don’t care if I did fun stuff all morning, I want you to play with me RIGHT NOW!”

And then there’s the stubborn refusal to do what we tell him. I find myself shouting at him because it’s the only thing he responds to. The purist philosophy says that you should only tell them something once; non-compliance leads directly to consequences. Otherwise you’re teaching them to respond only to shouting. It’s a great theory, but what possible appropriate consequence can you come up with for the minor infractions? It seems awfully harsh to send him to his room because he was so wrapped up in his toy that he didn’t hear me talking. We fight enough battles without taking on those as well.

And yet, as the scolding and “corrections” (as my dad used to call them) pile up day by day, I can’t help; thinking of that verse in Colossians: “Parents, do not nag your children, lest they lose heart.” After all, he can be so sweet. He loves to help us with projects. He brings Nicholas toys all the time (counting every one). And yesterday, he took Julianna out in the hallway while we were warming up the choir and gave her rides up and down the ramp on Nicholas’s blanket.

I worry that I yell too much—that he’s going to think that nothing he does is good enough to win my approval.

It’s not like all he encounters is an endless stream of negativity. I try hard to acknowledge his good behavior as well as his bad. Yet my attempts feel wholly inadequate. I’d like not to jump down his throat…but how can I ignore it when he does dumbass things like shove a toy up in my eyes while I’m struggling to buckle him into the loaner car (yes, a car…three car seats smushed into the back of an economy car. I feel like I’m driving a clam shell.) while the shop works on the van. What the…?????

I don’t have any answers today—just vents. And that’s the most obnoxious part of all.