Like a Savage

I get it. Being a mom often times means holding the line, enforcing the rules, and forcing – I mean fostering – a change in behavior. I am fully aware of that now, 11 years into parenting. Holding my kids accountable and teaching them respect, hard work ethic, and stick-to-it-iveness is a daily calling which I will embrace because I know the payoff is well worth the immediate sacrifice of my cool-factor and likeability.

Sure, I have shed tears behind closed doors after a “You are so mean!” or a “You hate me!” comment is thrown my way. I frequently check with other parents to make sure I am doing the right thing. It’s at these times that parental decision-making feels more like educated guesses than the clear-cut answers I read about in books.

No one (including me) likes to be the heavy – the rule mongrel, the fun-wrecker, the unpopular voice of maturity-producing reason. It stinks. And to be honest, sometimes my intention to be the perfect parent is, as my kids would say, an epic fail.

I remember one such night about five years ago. We were having a family dinner around the table. (That’s one of the keys to a successful parenting, right?) We had been honing in on table manners and how to have a respectable conversation, take manageable bites, and as we say, “Keep the food a secret once it is in your mouth.”

The kids were pretty jacked up that night. Addressing the smacking of their lips was too lofty of a goal – we just wanted them to keep their butts in their seats. I even tied one of them to the chair with a winter scarf! (Semi-effective but humbling to admit.) Reminders became suggestions and suggestions became threats, while our children joyfully and defiantly circled the table at a run, singing in their loudest voices a battle cry of unified disobedience. We were tired. We were out-numbered. And we were clearly losing this paternal fight going down in our home.

My husband looked at me and profoundly said, “Is this what it feels like to fail as parents?”

“Yeah. Probably,” I replied back in resignation.

We both sighed. “Well,” he said after a long pause, “let’s try again tomorrow.”

You see, sometimes despite our best efforts, we lose. We yell when we should be patiently correcting. We fold under the pressure of a tantrum. We distribute consequences based more on “getting back at them” or showing them who’s boss” than to provide a teachable moment through cause and effect. I am guilty of all of these and more. Some moments – some days – we’ll feel failure more than success. And those seasons are hard. What can we do when this happens?

Try again tomorrow.

My daughter’s class did a school project last Christmas writing a letter to Santa stating why they would make a good Elf in his workshop. She listed some of her qualifications and the intention to work hard making toys. But there was one thing on her list that brought tears to my eyes. The last thing she said was, “Oh, and I NEVER give up.”

Boy, do I know the truth in this statement. My baby girl (who’s eight-and-a-half) is one of the most gritty, determined, and persistent people I know – kids or adults. And although at times it provides a plethora of parenting headaches, it is also one the very things I love about her most. She will try again. She will not give up. She will get the job done no matter the opposition or the odds.

I love her moxie! I need a healthy dose of moxie myself; especially when my parenting ideas are…well…less than effective.

Table manners had always been a challenge for our crazy clan. But as they got older, these growing kids with ravenous appetites had made every meal into a merciless melee. Once dinner was placed on the table, they would descend upon it like a rabid pack of wolves during a famine. Hands grabbing, elbows flying, food selfishly being claimed for consumption without personal regard or restraint.

After a particularly aggressive display of “feuding for food,” I knew something drastic was necessary. I decided to ‘shock’ the lesson right into them. So, as the panicked food frenzy began, I joined in. I grabbed food by the fistfuls, loudly shoving generous portions into my mouth until it was not only full, but also overflowing and falling out all over my plate and the table.

My foursome fell silent – including my husband who gawked in disbelief.

“Are we savages?” I roared in my fiercest, firmest voice. “This is what you guys look like when you eat! It’s embarrassing! Do really want to be savages?”

In seconds, quiet confusion turned to unabashed laughter followed by hearty affirmations to my question.

“Yeah! Let’s be savages like mom! Can we, Mom? Eat like you?”

This was NOT how I saw this going.

Do they remember my dramatic display of savage behavior? Oh, do they ever. And even though it didn’t have the desired effect of enlightenment, I realized how crazy I must have appeared and together we enjoyed the hilarity of it all.

They still talk about it now. (“Remember when mom was a savage?”) It’s one of the favorite stories told when guests come over, and someday for my birthday, I fully expect a t-shirt with the word “Savage” on it to be my gift. I promise to wear it proudly.

No, my ideas are not always superb. My intentions may be more compelling than my results. I have had to make concessions from time-to-time and I know I’ll have to again in the future. But I, like my little girl, never give up.

So, sweet friends, as the sun comes up and a new day dawns, let it remind you to take a deep breath and let go of the epic fails of yesterday. We – like our kids – are works in progress. Tomorrow will bring a fresh start, a clean slate and new beginning. Let’s forgive our kids for messing up our plans or embarrassing us in the grocery store. Let’s forgive ourselves of those parenting snafus and realize that one losing battle (or ten) won’t define us and certainly won’t defeat us.

Tomorrow is coming. Let’s face it like a savage.