It’s true what “they” say…children are like sponges, they absorb whatever surrounds them. Or something profound like that.
This can be a phenomenally useful tool…or a devastatingly sad truth.
It never ceases to amaze me how much of the behavior I find unacceptable or annoying coming from my daughter, was learned inadvertently from me.
The scowl.
The stern reprimand.
The abrupt, ungracious reply.
The stealthy power of negotiation.
I find myself standing in her doorway at times, listening to her scold her stuffed animals and baby dolls, with a distinctly ungracious tone, devoid on any compassion or understanding, and my heart sinks because I hear myself in her.
Sometimes it’s the impatient response of her brother’s shouts that cause my memory to jog. Why yes…that’s exactly the tone I used with him yesterday when he decided shouting for an hour straight would be fun.
But more often than not, it’s the subtle body language she uses – the stink eye, the heavy, full-bodied sigh, and of course the infamous can’t-you-see-I’m-mad-at-you posture with hips swayed and arms folded.
Yes. I taught her these stellar qualities. Aren’t I just a 5 star mom?
I shudder at the thought of someone {…anyone} overhearing me on one of “those” days, speaking to her with such anger, when accusation spews like venom and I too quickly reprimand her for her {childlike} behavior.
I too often judge her by her actions, while I judge myself by my intentions.
What a gross double standard.
It’s times like this that I’m forced to examine the way I communicate with my children, verbally and non – and sadly enough, it’s usually in ways I would never dream of speaking to another human being.
I’m not a yeller. But I most definitely have discovered a volume and pitch I never knew I had. If I don’t practice a little introspection in this area, an accomplished yeller I’m sure I could become.
There are days I’m so exhausted from this never-ending task of parenting, so tired of the sound of my own voice.
And yet it’s on those days, when I find myself crying to my husband in a heart-naked, snotty-nosed sort of way, that I realize that what distresses me more than my children’s behavior, is the way I have reacted to it.
It’s that blasted crazy cycle again.
As parents we are constantly modeling. Modeling for the little eyes that are ever watching; what’s truly important in life, what our core values are, where our convictions lie, how to properly honor and respect human {and animal} life, how to process disappointment, how to correctly handle conflict-resolution, and every other major {and minor} life lesson possible.
How often I drop the ball in modeling the right behavior. It’s so easy to just react out of the selfishness that festers in my heart, rather than respond in gracious, selfless love.
It’s a hard truth to swallow. It doesn’t give me warm fuzzies, that’s for sure.
But, it’s usually in heart-heavy times like this that I notice an astonishingly endearing quality in my daughter…and realize that it too was learned from me.
{Thanks God, you always know when to lift my chin and how to encourage my weary heart}.
Her compassion astounds me. Her tenderness melts me. Her sweet love for the “underdog” reminds me of the way her daddy and I would make it our mission to love on the “unlovable”. Her adorable affectionate streak – that usually involves her calling me “sweetie” or “baby” several times in a 5 minute span – tickles me pink.
She may be an incredibly strong willed child – with a knack for picking up many of my less redeeming qualities – but boy does she have a sweet spirit and a tender heart.
I find picking apart 1 Corinthians 13 in relation to my expression of love for my children incredibly convicting…asking myself if my actions/words/tone/body language are whispering the depths of this great love, or simply shouting from the shallow cesspool of my flawed humanity.
I am so incredibly grateful for the fact that God is far from finished with me. I am a work in progress {my children applaud}, and His grace is indeed sufficient for all my parenting {and “wifely”} short-falls.
I cling to the knowledge that God hand-picked me to parent these two tots…painfully imperfect as I am…and has promised to equip me with everything I need to do it well.
So I forge on.
Tomorrow is another day…I get to try this all over again.
