This morning on the "Today Show" there was a segment on how parents are doing too much for their kids: giving them too much help, getting them out of sticky situations, never letting them fail. And I had to look around to see if there were hidden cameras in my room! Because THOSE PARENTS ARE ME!
Here's the problem. I know that I'm controlling. Accepted that fact. But when I am helping my kids, I don't feel like it's controlling. It's more like assisting. I don't like it when they fail, but I know it's bound to happen. But if I can "assist" them so that it happens later (like when I'm dead) rather than sooner, why not? Why not give them all of the advice that I have had to find out the hard way----or maybe I learned it from my also-well-meaning parents. Here are a few pieces of advice that it doesn't hurt to know:
Lock the doors, even when you have a man at home.
Don't____ and drive (text, eat, put on makeup, talk on the phone, play with the radio, read a map, etc.)
Don't leave food out for more than two hours.
Don't drink out of other people's straws (ever heard of meningitis?)
Keep a little extra gas money in your glove box.
Don't pick up hitchhikers (unless it's Grandma.)
Don't leave your laundry sitting in the washer for three or more days.
Choose your boyfriends wisely. VERY wisely.
Never, ever put into print---email, text, handwriting, fb---something you wouldn't want printed in the newspaper
This, of course, is not the complete list. But you get the drift. And why NOT tell my kids this stuff? Afterall, our parents gave us advice to keep us from making mistakes. Remember these:
Don't sit too close to the t.v. or you'll go blind (ok, that one turned out to be untrue).
Don't make that face again---your face is going to freeze that way (again, not true).
Don't crack your knuckles or they'll get big and ugly. (I still think this is true).
If you cross your eyes too many times they'll stay that way. (Ummmm.....).
Don't wear a dress if you're going on the monkey bars (ok, that one is still true).
Ok, so most of those didn't turn out to be true. But it made our parents FEEL better to tell us these things, things they believed were true. So what's wrong with giving our kids advice to keep them from making mistakes? It will make US feel better. And who knows, maybe some of it will turn out to be good advice?
Look Both Ways
a mom's view of the world
Monday, June 20, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Enough Said
It's Father's Day and I was sitting alone, eating a nice lunch, while number one daughter went off with friends on her first day back in "college town." It would have been quite enjoyable. Had it not been for "the dad."
"The dad" was in the booth behind me. I couldn't see him. I never saw him, really, but I could hear him. He was talking to his "daughter." And he was telling her how disappointed he was in her. How sad she made him feel. How he wished she had made better choices. I couldn't see her, either, but every once in a while she would say a couple of words. But mostly it was "the dad" talking. He repeatedly told her the same things, used the same words: disappointed, sad, better choices.
After awhile, a group of young men, probably late teens to early twenties, came in and sat at an adjacent table. With a "dad." Once they had all gotten seated, one of the "boys" said, "Happy Father's Day, Dad. Let's pray." And he led the rest of them in a prayer, a sincere prayer about how they were thankful for this dad and the time they had to share with him; how they appreciated his guidance in their lives; how they hoped they would have the wisdom of this dad. And how they were thankful for their Heavenly father, too.
My ears, which had been trying to block out "The dad" conversation at the table behind me, were now riveted to this table full of young men. Young men who weren't afraid to pray in public, weren't afraid to thank their Heavenly father for their "dad." I listened to their laughter, to the dad giving advice, to their talk of the future and of possible ministries in their church and beyond. And I envied them. And I wanted to be like them.
I wonder what the life of "The dad" would have been like had he chosen a different route with his daughter? What if he had found something in her life to be proud of. Something to compliment her on. Something in her life he could take interest in. And how would her life had been different. Had he always "been disappointed" in her? Had she always lived with his disappointment in her choices? How much different could BOTH of their lives been---if "The dad" had chosen differently?
From this day forward, I vow to be like the second "dad." Oh, I don't know much about him. But I can guess pretty well: Church is important to him. He goes and he makes sure his kids go. He talks to them about what is important in the world, not just his world, but "The World." He tells them that others have bigger needs than we do, and that it's our job to help others. He tells his kids they can make a difference.
That's the kind of "dad" I want to be. Oh, ok, I'm a mom, but I want to be THAT kind of a mom. I hope it's not too late.
"The dad" was in the booth behind me. I couldn't see him. I never saw him, really, but I could hear him. He was talking to his "daughter." And he was telling her how disappointed he was in her. How sad she made him feel. How he wished she had made better choices. I couldn't see her, either, but every once in a while she would say a couple of words. But mostly it was "the dad" talking. He repeatedly told her the same things, used the same words: disappointed, sad, better choices.
After awhile, a group of young men, probably late teens to early twenties, came in and sat at an adjacent table. With a "dad." Once they had all gotten seated, one of the "boys" said, "Happy Father's Day, Dad. Let's pray." And he led the rest of them in a prayer, a sincere prayer about how they were thankful for this dad and the time they had to share with him; how they appreciated his guidance in their lives; how they hoped they would have the wisdom of this dad. And how they were thankful for their Heavenly father, too.
My ears, which had been trying to block out "The dad" conversation at the table behind me, were now riveted to this table full of young men. Young men who weren't afraid to pray in public, weren't afraid to thank their Heavenly father for their "dad." I listened to their laughter, to the dad giving advice, to their talk of the future and of possible ministries in their church and beyond. And I envied them. And I wanted to be like them.
I wonder what the life of "The dad" would have been like had he chosen a different route with his daughter? What if he had found something in her life to be proud of. Something to compliment her on. Something in her life he could take interest in. And how would her life had been different. Had he always "been disappointed" in her? Had she always lived with his disappointment in her choices? How much different could BOTH of their lives been---if "The dad" had chosen differently?
From this day forward, I vow to be like the second "dad." Oh, I don't know much about him. But I can guess pretty well: Church is important to him. He goes and he makes sure his kids go. He talks to them about what is important in the world, not just his world, but "The World." He tells them that others have bigger needs than we do, and that it's our job to help others. He tells his kids they can make a difference.
That's the kind of "dad" I want to be. Oh, ok, I'm a mom, but I want to be THAT kind of a mom. I hope it's not too late.
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