We’re nearing the end of the year, and–despite how hard I try not to measure myself by what I accomplish–this always ends up being a time I look back at what I’ve achieved throughout the year. This can be confusing when you’re in the baby stage because you’re sort of accomplishing nothing and everything at the same time.
On the one hand, keeping a kid alive for the first year is a HUGE accomplishment. But there are days I tend to write off my hard work as more instinct than skill. Yet, babies are so consuming and if you’ve been through the transition–you know there are moments you really wonder if you’ll get through it. You can see my inner conflict.
So while I typically vacillate between being too hard on myself about what I didn’t achieve in a year and advocating for recognition that having a baby and/or raising kids is arguably the greatest accomplishment there is–I think this time I’ll go a different direction.
This time I want to take a look at what I think our kids build in us as parents in a given year.
By nature, I think being a parent is a crash course in humility. You start out thinking you’re going to be one type of parent or your kid is going to be a certain type of kid, and then one day fantasy meets reality and you have to find a way to reconcile the two. You can either force a square peg in a round hole, or you can learn how to surrender.
Just my two cents–the parents that refuse to be humbled by their kids seem the most stressed out of all. I’m not saying humility means letting your kids do whatever they want all of the time. I’m saying humility means recognizing that we are not the center of the universe anymore, and that we have way less control than we thought we did.
So while the lack of humility can lead to a personality disorder…as in narcissistic personality disorder…I think the appropriate amount of humility does the opposite. Humility builds character.
Does anyone else remember seeing those posters that read “Character is what someone does when nobody else is watching?”
Well the irony is that it feels like my character has been largely built in humbling moments of parenting that everybody was watching. It’s one thing to sit with friends and talk about how you raise your kids, it’s another to raise them in front of each other. Hands down, my deepest friendships have been built through the many chaotic and hilarious moments of trying to control our kids in a new environment.
So instead of thinking of the moments that your kid(s) are not doing what they’re supposed to do as embarrassing or signs that you or your kids are failing to meet expectations, I suggest reframing these encounters as moments that build character instead.
Here are some examples of little moments that build character:
Using your best loving yet authoritative voice while telling your kid to do something and having them scream back at you instead.
Having to hold a boundary that’s miserable for everyone–like when you tell your kid they can’t go on the playground if they don’t wear shoes, and then they don’t put their shoes on so they sit there loudly crying in protest the whole time you are at the park.
Showing up to a party and your baby immediately having a blow out so smelly it could stink up the whole house. Or trying to go anywhere only to find your baby had a blow out, and you forgot to pack a spare outfit. Sometimes showing up and looking sharp just isn’t in the cards.
Having to pry your screaming kid off of a gate when it’s time to go. You know it’s your own fault for not leaving before this phase of dysregulation, but now there’s nothing you can do besides carry them away screaming while people stare at you in horror.
Showing up anywhere looking shell-shocked because you just listened to your baby scream the entire 20 minute drive to the place you just arrived. You were just trying to have a little fun, but parenthood reminds us kids aren’t on our schedule.
Sitting down to eat and hearing “Ewww. This looks yucky” right as you’re about to pray before the meal.
Hearing a kid crying somewhere off in the distance and pretending not to notice so as not to embarrass the parent that clearly needs to tend to their child…and then realizing it’s your kid that’s crying. It was me. I was the parent.
Thanksgiving is probably a time where all of these examples will happen over the course of a few days. I think it helps to keep in mind that all of these moments are examples of kids just being kids. Kids cry. They melt down. They say things without thinking. They protest. They poop.
They get dysregulated, and sometimes it’s sort of our fault. There are times we’re too busy socializing or focusing on our agenda that we’ve missed that it’s completely unrealistic to expect our kids to gracefully handle a situation we’re putting them in.
Yes, we have to be firm and hold boundaries. And we can prepare and contain as much as possible, but that will not stop these moments from happening. And that’s a good thing. Because if we did–our kids would have zero tolerance for the discomforts of life, and we’d have zero practice managing their emotions when things fall apart.
It’s how we respond to these moments that I believe show us what we’re made of and can either be the source of bonding or shame down the line.
Kids reveal our true character because they catch us off guard all of the time. They push our buttons at our absolute worst moments. Why? Because they’re not old enough to consider our feelings. They have no agenda or considerations–they’re just living in the moment! We’re the ones with all the baggage about what it means and all the responsibility of how to handle it.
So when you look back at a year of little moments like the ones I’ve listed and how you handled them–are you able to see any growth? Do you see a parent whose patience was tested daily and grew because of your reliance on the Lord? Do you see a parent that started off as socially anxious and learned to care less about what other people think and more about helping your kid regulate? Do you see a parent that used to freeze in the presence of big meltdowns that now knows how to steady yourself? Do you see a parent that started off as terrified of going anywhere with multiple kids that now doesn’t think twice about it? Do you see siblings that are bonding despite how inconvenienced they are by each other?
Do you see a parent that’s learned how to respond instead of just reacting?
Because if you see that kind of growth happening–I think you accomplished a lot this year.
When we pour ourselves into our kids, we often think that we’re just helping them grow. Sometimes we need to remember that we’re growing too. Our growth just isn’t as obvious because it’s mostly presumed.
People can clearly see a baby that’s gone from crawling to walking, but it’s not always as obvious that a mom has had to adjust from carrying to chasing. People can clearly see a toddler that’s becoming more independent, but it’s not always obvious how much a mom wrestles with that independence.
Every leap our baby or babies go through brings a new set of challenges, and sometimes I don’t think we give ourselves enough credit for how much adapting we’re doing on a daily basis. When I look back at pictures from this year, I can feel how hard certain days were but what I see on those days are the greatest growth.
When they grow, we grow. It’s a beautiful dance and an invaluable experience of learning how to lead then follow, follow then lead, and it is a lot.
May the struggle be a reminder of why we need Jesus, and may our patience be a reflection of the one who is infinitely patient with us.
For the past few weeks, I’ve had these words written in my heart:
“He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young”
-Isaiah 40:11
Jesus gently leads us. There are moments I feel myself coming unglued at how frustrating it is to lead kids that don’t want to be led. And yes, there are moments we have to get from point A to point B. But there are also times we might want to reframe how we think of our role–patience is not permissiveness. Realistic expectations based on your child’s developmental stage is not coddling. We can be firm, and still loving. Learning to steady ourselves in the most dysregulating situations is a huge feat.
So if you’ve decided to utilize parenting as a pathway to relying on Jesus and attempting to be more like Him, I think you’re doing a great job. And if you need some help staying centered in this stage of parenthood, I’d love to be there for you! Please feel free to reach out to me at info@faithfocustherapy.com with questions or to set up your initial phone intake.
In closing, a prayer for perspective this Thanksgiving:
Lord, please help us to see our families as you see them.
When they are not doing what we’ve told them to do–help us to be firm, but still loving.
Help us to delight in their presence and to lead them gently, just as you lead us.
Please be our rock when we need to steady ourselves.
Please pursue us for quiet moments together that will restore our strength.
We thank you, Lord, for always being there to listen.
We are grateful for your infinite patience with us,
and we are so grateful that you’ve chosen us as parents.
Please protect our minds as we wonder if we’re doing the right thing,
and help us to find our confidence in you.
Amen.
