My six year old is feeling quite full of himself these
days. I used to smile and say he is
filled with such determination; I was sure he would go far in life with that "his
way or no way" attitude. Yet, in the back of my mind I know that was just my way of
covering up for my true feelings which were that he was quite hard-headed, as
my mother used to say -- right before she would add that a hard-head makes a soft
behind.
Now, maybe I have been brainwashed, but I have since been taught that we
should not undermine a child’s spirit. You do not want to instill negative thoughts. Always
speak in the positive. Well, I don’t know about you, but my mother beat the
positive out of us and we turned out just fine. In fact, she is 82 years old and
I still will not talk back … too much. If I do argue back, this 5’ 2” (used to
be 5’4”) women looks at me with so much venom that I feel guilty for the next two months. She does not have to beat us, we
learned our lessons well early on.
So, how do I, an old school-trained mother, raise my son in the ways of the new? Well, I can tell you right now, it is
not easy. Take for example today, he asked for a chocolate chip cookie and I
said sure. Then my quickly fading memory kicked in and I grabbed the Oreos
instead. Now most children would have
said, "Oh well", and would have taken the other cookie. But my head strong –
determined to have it his way – child, looked at me with anger in his eyes and
had the audacity to face off. He squinted his eyes, folded his arms and spit
out, “I said chocolate chip! That’s not chocolate chip. Why didn’t you bring me
chocolate chip! Didn’t you hear what I said!”
I have never had so many things go through my head at one
time. I envisioned my mother’s old school response and could actually see his
head fly back from the power of the closed-fisted bop, slamming the back of his head into the brick pillar. Then I
saw my father grab the entire bike (he was a grabber of things nearby), lift it
over his head and hurl it with the power of a Greek god into the small
inconsequential child who had not even enough time to close his mouth let alone
duck. Lastly I saw me wanting to offend him verbally, to hurt him maybe
physically and mentally, and to teach him a lesson, but unable to let the true wrath leave my
tensely pulsating body.
“What did you just
say!” was my first mode of attack. Then came the reiteration, “did you just
raise your voice at me? Did you just yell at me because I brought the wrong
cookie!” And he had the audacity to shake his head yes! I did not know what to
do or say. I could feel the heat slowly rising in side and knew that I could not turn to my parents' teachings. If I had said what he said to me, I would not be alive today to write these words.
Where did I go wrong? He is full of determination alright.
Determined to have it his way or no way! So I pretended to think I was in
control of the situation and yelled for him to get in the back seat. Then I
headed off to piano practice knowing that I was concerned that if I were too hard, he would have a bad day at his lesson. Oh if my mother knew that those were my thoughts, she would have my head on a platter and would revoke my mother card. But the longer I sat stewing behind the wheel, the more I determined I became. I would come up with the appropriate response and let him know who was really in charge of this situation.
Then it hit me, I had long felt that spankings were not always the answer, particularly with a child who thought they were always right. I needed
to rationalize with him and make him understand. But I had to be creative in my speech because I had to work his emotions. So I pulled to the side and slammed on the
brakes. Then in a calm voice, I began by saying how disappointed I was. I talked
about all the wonderful things that I do for him, and how I try to give him the
world whenever he asks. I laid it on thick. I read that extra book. I let him have cereal for dinner. I feed his dog and change his hamster cage. I understand the importance of buying that perfect Beyblade. I hug him every morning. I put bandaids on his boo-boos. Yet, the one day
I made a mistake, one tiny little mistake of grabbing the wrong cookie, he was
so disrespectful and flippant that I was stunned. It really and truly hurt my
feelings. He made me want to cry. (Not really, but it added that perfect edge.
And then a miraculous thing happened as I sat there looking injured. In the rear view mirror I could see that my words were truly having an
effect. Everyone knows how close boys are to their mothers, so I pulled the mama card and it worked. Wow! My determined, offensive child, was actually now a warm and caring human
being who felt horrible for the way he disrespected his mother. Yeah! Sorry
Mom, but just like the pen is mightier than the sword, I found that words could
be mightier than any belt, .... in this case anyway. And I am quite certain that I will have plenty more opportunities to test this theory against all of the other options between now and his adulthood... if he makes it that far!
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