Yesterday, I was a substitute teacher for several classes of 6th graders. Since then, I've been racking my brain for reasons why the students made statements like these as they entered my classroom:
"Oh good, it's you!"
"We like you, you're nice!"
"YES! A nice sub!"
Now before you get jealous or think I'm bragging, know this: earlier the same morning, my own 6th grader who attends the same school pleaded, "Please pretend like you don't know me today, Mom."
For all of you preschool and early-elementary moms out there, brace yourselves. You may make your child proud being the PTO president of her school, and your child may beam with excitement when you visit her at lunch now, but those glory days do end. When they do, tuck back this hard-learned, important bit of advice about raising teens: don't take their comments personally. It's not you. It really isn't.
So how could I be such a hit with this group of 6th grade students? It certainly wasn't because of my amazing teaching skills, quick wit, or fabulous lesson plan. In fact, they were following rather routine tasks for the day, including reading a book that didn't seem of interest to any of them. I surmised that perhaps their acceptance of me, (besides the fact that I wasn't their mom, of course!), was due to my acceptance of them. One of our greatest needs is to be accepted, and one of the easiest ways to convey that is by smiling.
My parents taught me the power of a smile, and somewhere I embraced the truth that a smile is one of the best gifts you can give someone. Everyone deserves to be smiled at, but I truly can't think of a group of people who need a smile more than teenagers.
When the students entered the room, I smiled. As I spoke to them, I smiled. When they glanced up from their reading, I smiled. Even when I asked them to quiet down, or reminded them what it means to be respectful, I smiled. And as they exited the room, I smiled and wished them well.
Just as a teacher has an influence over her classroom, as a wife and mom and family manager, I certainly have an influence over my home. In fact, as they say, I set the tone. What power I wield! So I decided today to make a conscious effort to smile more often, especially at home. Smile when my son or daughter look at me. Smile when I talk to them. Smile when they talk to me. Smile when my husband comes home from work or enters the room I'm in. And yes, even smile when my teens remind me what a potential embarrassment I am to them...knowing that I will indeed have the last laugh, God willing, when they parent kids of their own.
After all, a smile doesn't cost a thing.
"A cheerful heart is good medicine." Proverbs 17:22
Grace and Truth,
Katrina
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
Consequences Speak Louder Than Anger
Boy, was I angry!!!
I'm typically not an angry person. Usually my emotions are better categorized as frustrated or hurt. But no other word fits the way I felt toward my teen this morning except anger.
After separating myself from the situation and taking deep breaths until I was almost hyperventilating, my blood began to simmer instead of boil. Clearly, though, the anger had a source that needed addressed. Swiftly and surely. Heaven help him.
I've heard it said that there is a fine line between anger and love, and that we feel anger more deeply toward those we love deeply. I think every parent can relate to that.
I remember the days when my strong-willed toddler defiantly disobeyed. In those days, I could pick him up and put him in his room and walk away. Sometimes I would even say, "Mommy is very angry." That always felt good. If I were completely honest, the screams and tears I heard from his room gave me satisfaction. "Good," I thought. "He knows he was wrong." After a short while, I returned to his room to see a cute, tear-stained face, and love overwhelmed the anger. Our brief discussions usually ended in a prayer and a hug.
In this situation, there was no defiant disobedience. Just a cavalier attitude toward inconveniencing me. There was no cute, tear-stained toddler face. Just a flippant comment and total lack of remorse. There was no hug. Just an eye-roll and ungratefulness. No realization of how wrong he was. Just an unfounded accusation. "Mommy is very angry" was replaced with the statement, "I am NOT happy." And that was the biggest understatement of the year.
What to do with justified anger we feel toward our teens? Well, I've decided that even though the scene was different in almost every way from when my teen was a toddler, one thing should be the same -- the fact that there will be consequences. And these consequences will NOT be toddler-sized, thank you very much. No, my teen doesn't need a lecture, an angry outburst, or a sarcastic barrage of rub-it-in reminders. Just a swift and sure consequence. Or two.
I may not feel love, but in this way, I'm making a choice to love my teen. As Scripture reminds us, "God disciplines those He loves" (Hebrews 12:6), and "No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it" (Hebrews 12:11). So when said teen objects, or has an angry outburst of his own in response to those consequences, but the consequences stand, the perfect parenting moment presents itself in all its shiny glory. And it sticks.
And that's when the consequence speaks louder than an angry outburst ever could.
Grace and Truth,
Katrina
I'm typically not an angry person. Usually my emotions are better categorized as frustrated or hurt. But no other word fits the way I felt toward my teen this morning except anger.
After separating myself from the situation and taking deep breaths until I was almost hyperventilating, my blood began to simmer instead of boil. Clearly, though, the anger had a source that needed addressed. Swiftly and surely. Heaven help him.
I've heard it said that there is a fine line between anger and love, and that we feel anger more deeply toward those we love deeply. I think every parent can relate to that.
I remember the days when my strong-willed toddler defiantly disobeyed. In those days, I could pick him up and put him in his room and walk away. Sometimes I would even say, "Mommy is very angry." That always felt good. If I were completely honest, the screams and tears I heard from his room gave me satisfaction. "Good," I thought. "He knows he was wrong." After a short while, I returned to his room to see a cute, tear-stained face, and love overwhelmed the anger. Our brief discussions usually ended in a prayer and a hug.
In this situation, there was no defiant disobedience. Just a cavalier attitude toward inconveniencing me. There was no cute, tear-stained toddler face. Just a flippant comment and total lack of remorse. There was no hug. Just an eye-roll and ungratefulness. No realization of how wrong he was. Just an unfounded accusation. "Mommy is very angry" was replaced with the statement, "I am NOT happy." And that was the biggest understatement of the year.
What to do with justified anger we feel toward our teens? Well, I've decided that even though the scene was different in almost every way from when my teen was a toddler, one thing should be the same -- the fact that there will be consequences. And these consequences will NOT be toddler-sized, thank you very much. No, my teen doesn't need a lecture, an angry outburst, or a sarcastic barrage of rub-it-in reminders. Just a swift and sure consequence. Or two.
I may not feel love, but in this way, I'm making a choice to love my teen. As Scripture reminds us, "God disciplines those He loves" (Hebrews 12:6), and "No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it" (Hebrews 12:11). So when said teen objects, or has an angry outburst of his own in response to those consequences, but the consequences stand, the perfect parenting moment presents itself in all its shiny glory. And it sticks.
And that's when the consequence speaks louder than an angry outburst ever could.
Grace and Truth,
Katrina
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Sibling Love...or lack thereof!
This morning while my daughter was in the midst of relaying cafeteria drama from the previous day, she said, "I would never want to sit by my brother at lunch." Her brother, who was upstairs and not involved in the conversation at all, interjected with, "That's okay. I wouldn't want to sit by you either."
Ah. Sibling love. Does anyone else want to throw up their hands and scream, "What in the world?!"
From the time my kids were small, I have reminded them that friends would come and go, but their brother/sister would be their friend for life. Family is forever. I know I've seen that on a wall plaque somewhere, so it must be true.
Just when I think my kids will never get along, never learn to love and appreciate each other, they surprise me. I'm betting your kids do this too, and you catch them. They laugh at the same thing, say something kind, share their gum, compliment an accomplishment, or just show general kindness or acceptance of the other one being alive. (Hey, beggars can't be choosers.)
For all the frustration of sibling conflict, there are joys mixed in. Small glimpses of the fact that when they are grown, they will be glad to have another human being to reminisce with. To laugh with. To share holidays with. To make fun of their parents with. To love. Because after all, for better or worse, family is forever.
Grace and Truth,
Katrina
Ah. Sibling love. Does anyone else want to throw up their hands and scream, "What in the world?!"
From the time my kids were small, I have reminded them that friends would come and go, but their brother/sister would be their friend for life. Family is forever. I know I've seen that on a wall plaque somewhere, so it must be true.
Just when I think my kids will never get along, never learn to love and appreciate each other, they surprise me. I'm betting your kids do this too, and you catch them. They laugh at the same thing, say something kind, share their gum, compliment an accomplishment, or just show general kindness or acceptance of the other one being alive. (Hey, beggars can't be choosers.)
For all the frustration of sibling conflict, there are joys mixed in. Small glimpses of the fact that when they are grown, they will be glad to have another human being to reminisce with. To laugh with. To share holidays with. To make fun of their parents with. To love. Because after all, for better or worse, family is forever.
Grace and Truth,
Katrina
Listening and Acknowledging Feelings
This morning there was a two-hour school delay; therefore, I was already busy at work on the computer in our office when my daughter came down to the kitchen to eat breakfast and pack her lunch. She appeared at the doorway of the office and said, "Mom, can you come to the kitchen so we can talk?" then quickly retreated back to the kitchen.
Her words did not contain overt urgency, nor did she mention the desired subject matter. For all I knew, she just wanted help packing her lunch. For a few seconds my attention turned back to my computer, but her words, "so we can talk" echoed in my mind. She was back in the kitchen, quiet. But her simple request was akin to when she was a toddler, holding her arms upward toward me and saying, "Hold you." She needed me. And when your teen requests you, no matter how that request is disguised, I'm learning to take advantage of it...despite any inconvenience on my part.
My stuff could wait. My girl wanted to talk.
No sooner had I walked into the kitchen than my girl spilled out all sorts of information, ultimately revealing her heart over a matter at school. The matter could be reduced to the phrase, "girl drama," but that would not capture all that happened in those precious moments. In a sense, she was asking for my advice, which in the end I gave her. First, however, I listened and acknowledged her feelings. Listening...what a complicated art form. Through God's grace, He is teaching me to listen as if these things, which are so small in perspective to adult concerns, are the only things that matter. Because to her, they are.
Mama bear wanted to interject with, "Just forget about him! Just ignore him!" or to the other issues, "It will all work itself out." Instead, I said with sincerity, "I'm so sorry he said that to you. It never feels good to be made fun of" and "I bet you are confused about what to do with your friend. Have you talked to God about it?" Those kinds of responses evoked tears, created a willing reception of advice, and encouraged future invitations into her world. Ultimately, it also allowed me to gently turn my teen toward her Heavenly Father, who handles the "listening and acknowledging feelings" thing perfectly. And His Word of advice also happens to be the best around.
Grace and Truth,
Katrina
Her words did not contain overt urgency, nor did she mention the desired subject matter. For all I knew, she just wanted help packing her lunch. For a few seconds my attention turned back to my computer, but her words, "so we can talk" echoed in my mind. She was back in the kitchen, quiet. But her simple request was akin to when she was a toddler, holding her arms upward toward me and saying, "Hold you." She needed me. And when your teen requests you, no matter how that request is disguised, I'm learning to take advantage of it...despite any inconvenience on my part.
My stuff could wait. My girl wanted to talk.
No sooner had I walked into the kitchen than my girl spilled out all sorts of information, ultimately revealing her heart over a matter at school. The matter could be reduced to the phrase, "girl drama," but that would not capture all that happened in those precious moments. In a sense, she was asking for my advice, which in the end I gave her. First, however, I listened and acknowledged her feelings. Listening...what a complicated art form. Through God's grace, He is teaching me to listen as if these things, which are so small in perspective to adult concerns, are the only things that matter. Because to her, they are.
Mama bear wanted to interject with, "Just forget about him! Just ignore him!" or to the other issues, "It will all work itself out." Instead, I said with sincerity, "I'm so sorry he said that to you. It never feels good to be made fun of" and "I bet you are confused about what to do with your friend. Have you talked to God about it?" Those kinds of responses evoked tears, created a willing reception of advice, and encouraged future invitations into her world. Ultimately, it also allowed me to gently turn my teen toward her Heavenly Father, who handles the "listening and acknowledging feelings" thing perfectly. And His Word of advice also happens to be the best around.
Grace and Truth,
Katrina
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Replacing Directives With Suggestions
Parenting teens is tough! Can I just say that? Parenting in general is tough, as a friend and I lamented together in Wal-Mart today. There is a myriad of parenting advice out there in every form imaginable, but there is no one-size-fits-all rule book, that's for sure. Sometimes it helps to just admit that, and to remember that as parents, we're not alone. And most of us are doing the best we can. And we're not perfect. Besides, our kids don't need perfect parents; in fact, they need us to remind them that we're not so they see that it's okay that they're not.
These are things I'm learning. Things I'm coming to terms with. Slowly but surely.
Today I wanted to write about "replacing directives with suggestions," which I mentioned in my first blog about shifting your parenting style with teens. To illustrate, here is a list of common directives that flow out of my mouth like the faucet that someone left running:
You need a coat. It's cold outside.
Make sure you finish that homework before we leave.
Don't argue with me.
Don't fight with your sister.
Put the milk away.
Do your chores.
You had better study for that test if you want to bring your grade up.
Turn the music down, please.
You need to clean up your mess.
I could easily add more, but you understand. It's just the way life goes, right? Especially when we're running late, there's much to be done, or you're tired. So basically, all the time.
As I contemplated this idea of making suggestions, my first thought went to the sarcastic rebuttal, "But that's just the point! These are not suggestions!" Because if I only suggest these things, they will not happen! Hmmm. Perhaps true. What would happen if these directives above became sincere suggestions (emphasis on sincere, as in completely void of sarcasm)? Let's take a look:
Did you know it's only supposed to be 30 degrees today?
Do you think you'll have time to finish that homework before we leave, or do you think you'll need to stay home tonight (or get up early tomorrow) to get it done?
Did someone treat you badly today? You seem upset, and it feels like you're taking it out on me.
Why are you treating your sister so disrespectfully? Would you like to rephrase what you just said or remain silent for the rest of this car ride?
Did you know that milk costs $3 per gallon? If you were a parent, what would you do if your teen kept leaving the milk out to spoil?
(The following day) Your chores were left undone yesterday so today you have an additional chore. Would you like it to be folding the load of laundry or sweeping the kitchen floor?
Do you feel like you've spent enough time studying for your test tomorrow? How easy/difficult do you think it will be? How much do you think the test grade will affect your overall grade?
I'm surprised you're playing your music so loudly. Did you know Dad and I were talking? (Did you know your brother was trying to do homework?)
I'm putting a laundry basket at the bottom of the stairs for you to gather all your things in. Do you want to do that now or right after supper?
Reiterating: these suggestions must not be laced with even an ounce of sarcasm, or their effectiveness is null and void. Also, a parent must train her tongue to pause before she speaks; otherwise, the default mode of directives kicks in. I may or may not know this from personal experience. Ahem.
Maybe you noticed, like I did, that many of these "suggestions" involves giving our teens a choice. And maybe, like me, you remembered that this tactic also proved effective with toddlers, as in "Do you want your juice in the red cup or the blue cup?" I've discovered other similarities between parenting toddlers and teens, too, but I'll save that for another blog. Bottom line is, rephrasing our directives shows respect, and communicates that their opinion is valued, which they deserve even if they are frustrating the heck out of us.
What questions and suggestions have you used successfully with your teens? I'd love to hear your ideas! Please comment below with your ideas, or maybe with a question of how to turn a directive that wasn't listed above into a question. Let's brainstorm together!
Grace and Truth,
Katrina
These are things I'm learning. Things I'm coming to terms with. Slowly but surely.
Today I wanted to write about "replacing directives with suggestions," which I mentioned in my first blog about shifting your parenting style with teens. To illustrate, here is a list of common directives that flow out of my mouth like the faucet that someone left running:
You need a coat. It's cold outside.
Make sure you finish that homework before we leave.
Don't argue with me.
Don't fight with your sister.
Put the milk away.
Do your chores.
You had better study for that test if you want to bring your grade up.
Turn the music down, please.
You need to clean up your mess.
I could easily add more, but you understand. It's just the way life goes, right? Especially when we're running late, there's much to be done, or you're tired. So basically, all the time.
As I contemplated this idea of making suggestions, my first thought went to the sarcastic rebuttal, "But that's just the point! These are not suggestions!" Because if I only suggest these things, they will not happen! Hmmm. Perhaps true. What would happen if these directives above became sincere suggestions (emphasis on sincere, as in completely void of sarcasm)? Let's take a look:
Did you know it's only supposed to be 30 degrees today?
Do you think you'll have time to finish that homework before we leave, or do you think you'll need to stay home tonight (or get up early tomorrow) to get it done?
Did someone treat you badly today? You seem upset, and it feels like you're taking it out on me.
Why are you treating your sister so disrespectfully? Would you like to rephrase what you just said or remain silent for the rest of this car ride?
Did you know that milk costs $3 per gallon? If you were a parent, what would you do if your teen kept leaving the milk out to spoil?
(The following day) Your chores were left undone yesterday so today you have an additional chore. Would you like it to be folding the load of laundry or sweeping the kitchen floor?
Do you feel like you've spent enough time studying for your test tomorrow? How easy/difficult do you think it will be? How much do you think the test grade will affect your overall grade?
I'm surprised you're playing your music so loudly. Did you know Dad and I were talking? (Did you know your brother was trying to do homework?)
I'm putting a laundry basket at the bottom of the stairs for you to gather all your things in. Do you want to do that now or right after supper?
Reiterating: these suggestions must not be laced with even an ounce of sarcasm, or their effectiveness is null and void. Also, a parent must train her tongue to pause before she speaks; otherwise, the default mode of directives kicks in. I may or may not know this from personal experience. Ahem.
Maybe you noticed, like I did, that many of these "suggestions" involves giving our teens a choice. And maybe, like me, you remembered that this tactic also proved effective with toddlers, as in "Do you want your juice in the red cup or the blue cup?" I've discovered other similarities between parenting toddlers and teens, too, but I'll save that for another blog. Bottom line is, rephrasing our directives shows respect, and communicates that their opinion is valued, which they deserve even if they are frustrating the heck out of us.
What questions and suggestions have you used successfully with your teens? I'd love to hear your ideas! Please comment below with your ideas, or maybe with a question of how to turn a directive that wasn't listed above into a question. Let's brainstorm together!
Grace and Truth,
Katrina
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Parenting Teens by Asking the Right Questions
Have you ever cringed at something your child said?
When our kids were young, sometimes they would notice someone at the store who seemed different from them, and in innocence ask about it. Sometimes their comments would be embarrassing, many times they would provide a "teachable moment," and other times their comments would simply be funny. Then you blink, and your toddlers are teens racing toward adulthood. They are still trying to figure life out, and there are still comments made about those who are different from them that make you cringe. Now, however, the comments are no laughing matter.
My kids are awesome. God has blessed me with two young teens who are truly great. I would suffer the most extreme torture and death imaginable on their behalf. I could fill pages with the ways they made me smile just yesterday alone. But like me, they are still fallible human beings who have selfishness and pride vying for control of their hearts and minds. As parents, we would do well to remember this when their behavior, words, and attitudes contradict everything we've taught them their entire lives. I would do well to remember this.
Both of my teens caught me off guard with some comments in the last couple of days. Our broken washing machine produced a flippant comment about how going to a laundromat would be humiliating. (Excuse me, what did you say?!) Then there was the hesitant agreement to consider reaching out to someone in need, "if it is just for a week or so." (Really? You're giving me a time limit?!) Then there was still another comment about how having a guest in our home would "freak my friends out." (I don't remember inviting your friends to this discussion, thank you very much!)
Oh geesh. Less than a year ago those comments would have sent me over the edge. Instinctively I wanted to scream thoughts like, "Seriously?!" "Have I really raised kids like this?" and "Who do you think you are?" I mean, good heavens, what kind of mother would have teens with such stinky, rotten attitudes?! But God as my witness, I refrained. I took a deep breath and did not give a voice to the disgusted, sarcastic retorts that marched across my mind. I remembered that nothing good in me is apart from Christ and His grace. I remembered the way I had worried about what someone else thought of me just the other day, and how I had often subconsciously elevated myself above others. Though adult and mature enough to not speak it aloud, had I inadvertently modeled this attitude? God, forgive me. How I need a Savior. How I need to point my kids to the Savior.
The comments had to be addressed, but how? I remembered one more thing that day: I remembered that as a parent of teens now, I needed to teach by asking the right questions, instead of by quickly correcting or expressing my disapproval. Now don't get me wrong, because I couldn't have disapproved more. But allowing their comments a safe place to land without condemnation kept their minds and hearts open enough to consider the thought-provoking question God placed on my tongue in time for our supper conversation.
"I have a question," I said sincerely, looking at both of my teenagers. "What do you think makes a person valuable?"
Without much hesitation, they both answered with understandable confidence, "Their character." "Loving God and obeying Him." "Making the right choices."
With my wise and humble husband fully engaged, we led our kids to see that although all of those things are important and expected of authentic Christians, none of them are what gives a person inherent value. After all, a person can have the most despicable character, or have fallen on hard times, and yet is still just as valuable as we are. As we all are.
One of our teens asked why we had earlier said we were concerned. We told them honestly that our biblical worldview should change the way we see ourselves and the world around us. God's way is not the world's way, nor will it ever be. We are subjected to people giving value assessments of others at every turn, and we must be aware of it and choose differently. And, as Proverbs 17:5 warns us, "When we mock the poor we show contempt for our Maker." Serious stuff.
"So," we continued, "what does make a person valuable?"
"The fact that God created them and loves them?"
"Yes. Yes indeed."
Asking the right questions. Definitely a keeper.
Grace and Truth,
Katrina
When our kids were young, sometimes they would notice someone at the store who seemed different from them, and in innocence ask about it. Sometimes their comments would be embarrassing, many times they would provide a "teachable moment," and other times their comments would simply be funny. Then you blink, and your toddlers are teens racing toward adulthood. They are still trying to figure life out, and there are still comments made about those who are different from them that make you cringe. Now, however, the comments are no laughing matter.
My kids are awesome. God has blessed me with two young teens who are truly great. I would suffer the most extreme torture and death imaginable on their behalf. I could fill pages with the ways they made me smile just yesterday alone. But like me, they are still fallible human beings who have selfishness and pride vying for control of their hearts and minds. As parents, we would do well to remember this when their behavior, words, and attitudes contradict everything we've taught them their entire lives. I would do well to remember this.
Both of my teens caught me off guard with some comments in the last couple of days. Our broken washing machine produced a flippant comment about how going to a laundromat would be humiliating. (Excuse me, what did you say?!) Then there was the hesitant agreement to consider reaching out to someone in need, "if it is just for a week or so." (Really? You're giving me a time limit?!) Then there was still another comment about how having a guest in our home would "freak my friends out." (I don't remember inviting your friends to this discussion, thank you very much!)
Oh geesh. Less than a year ago those comments would have sent me over the edge. Instinctively I wanted to scream thoughts like, "Seriously?!" "Have I really raised kids like this?" and "Who do you think you are?" I mean, good heavens, what kind of mother would have teens with such stinky, rotten attitudes?! But God as my witness, I refrained. I took a deep breath and did not give a voice to the disgusted, sarcastic retorts that marched across my mind. I remembered that nothing good in me is apart from Christ and His grace. I remembered the way I had worried about what someone else thought of me just the other day, and how I had often subconsciously elevated myself above others. Though adult and mature enough to not speak it aloud, had I inadvertently modeled this attitude? God, forgive me. How I need a Savior. How I need to point my kids to the Savior.
The comments had to be addressed, but how? I remembered one more thing that day: I remembered that as a parent of teens now, I needed to teach by asking the right questions, instead of by quickly correcting or expressing my disapproval. Now don't get me wrong, because I couldn't have disapproved more. But allowing their comments a safe place to land without condemnation kept their minds and hearts open enough to consider the thought-provoking question God placed on my tongue in time for our supper conversation.
"I have a question," I said sincerely, looking at both of my teenagers. "What do you think makes a person valuable?"
Without much hesitation, they both answered with understandable confidence, "Their character." "Loving God and obeying Him." "Making the right choices."
With my wise and humble husband fully engaged, we led our kids to see that although all of those things are important and expected of authentic Christians, none of them are what gives a person inherent value. After all, a person can have the most despicable character, or have fallen on hard times, and yet is still just as valuable as we are. As we all are.
One of our teens asked why we had earlier said we were concerned. We told them honestly that our biblical worldview should change the way we see ourselves and the world around us. God's way is not the world's way, nor will it ever be. We are subjected to people giving value assessments of others at every turn, and we must be aware of it and choose differently. And, as Proverbs 17:5 warns us, "When we mock the poor we show contempt for our Maker." Serious stuff.
"So," we continued, "what does make a person valuable?"
"The fact that God created them and loves them?"
"Yes. Yes indeed."
Asking the right questions. Definitely a keeper.
Grace and Truth,
Katrina
Monday, January 23, 2012
Silence is Golden
In my last blog, I mentioned that one of the new parenting tools I'm clumsily learning to use with my teens is silence. I thought maybe the best way to explain this was to give an example.
Instead of unloading the dishwasher last week, my teen chose to text, play a game on his ipod, and lounge. Over Christmas break we decided that freedom would be given as to when homework and chores were completed each evening, as long as they were in fact completed sometime by 9 p.m. Nagging, threatening, warning, or lecturing would be eliminated from the evening conversation. At the same time, the consequences of not following through were also explained -- namely, an extra chore the following day (in addition to the original one that was ignored), and for the homework, the natural consequence of a bad grade.
After supper, it was clear that my teen was not managing his time wisely. On top of that, the counter and sink were full of dirty dishes without a home. I bit my tongue. No need to remind him, I reminded myself. If I manage his time for him, he'll never learn to do it himself. "But he's only 14, I said back to myself. He's tired, and probably isn't even thinking of it. Maybe I should just give a hint or ask a question?"
I bit my tongue again. This silence stuff was getting to me. Especially after said teen was in bed and a dirty kitchen stared at me, reminding me that it would be there throughout the entire next day. Fifteen minutes of focused attention and I could take care of it myself, and it would be done right. Conflict would be avoided and my type-A personality pacified...but that's a blog for another day. For today, I followed through by letting it go.
The next day, his after-school note read like this: "Hi. Hope your day was good. Before doing anything else, put all your electronic devices on their chargers and unload the dishwasher from yesterday. Additionally, load the dirty dishes and hand wash anything that doesn't fit. Love, Mom and Dad."
It was written in Dad's handwriting; after all, why not bring in the reinforcements? Mom was there to ensure the note was seen, read, and followed. Unfortunately, I was also present for the backlash.
"This is stupid!"
"Why do I have to do so many dishes! This isn't fair! I just forgot to unload the dishwasher yesterday!"
"I hate this! It's SO STUPID!"
Again, I pulled silence out of the toolbox, although there were many other tools that clamored for use instead. Only when the complaints intensified and the volume rose did I set down "silence" and pick up the tool called "calm, brief responses." When he objected to my parallel between this consequence and "forgetting" something in a real life job leading to being fired, I simply said, "I'm not going to argue. I need to go fold laundry," and made myself scarce.
Please understand that this silence thing is still a learning process for me, and definitely not easy. It goes against most moms' instincts. But when I returned from folding laundry to a clean kitchen and two kids doing their homework at the kitchen table, I decided to keep silence in the toolbox's top drawer. At least for this season.
Grace and Truth,
Katrina
Instead of unloading the dishwasher last week, my teen chose to text, play a game on his ipod, and lounge. Over Christmas break we decided that freedom would be given as to when homework and chores were completed each evening, as long as they were in fact completed sometime by 9 p.m. Nagging, threatening, warning, or lecturing would be eliminated from the evening conversation. At the same time, the consequences of not following through were also explained -- namely, an extra chore the following day (in addition to the original one that was ignored), and for the homework, the natural consequence of a bad grade.
After supper, it was clear that my teen was not managing his time wisely. On top of that, the counter and sink were full of dirty dishes without a home. I bit my tongue. No need to remind him, I reminded myself. If I manage his time for him, he'll never learn to do it himself. "But he's only 14, I said back to myself. He's tired, and probably isn't even thinking of it. Maybe I should just give a hint or ask a question?"
I bit my tongue again. This silence stuff was getting to me. Especially after said teen was in bed and a dirty kitchen stared at me, reminding me that it would be there throughout the entire next day. Fifteen minutes of focused attention and I could take care of it myself, and it would be done right. Conflict would be avoided and my type-A personality pacified...but that's a blog for another day. For today, I followed through by letting it go.
The next day, his after-school note read like this: "Hi. Hope your day was good. Before doing anything else, put all your electronic devices on their chargers and unload the dishwasher from yesterday. Additionally, load the dirty dishes and hand wash anything that doesn't fit. Love, Mom and Dad."
It was written in Dad's handwriting; after all, why not bring in the reinforcements? Mom was there to ensure the note was seen, read, and followed. Unfortunately, I was also present for the backlash.
"This is stupid!"
"Why do I have to do so many dishes! This isn't fair! I just forgot to unload the dishwasher yesterday!"
"I hate this! It's SO STUPID!"
Again, I pulled silence out of the toolbox, although there were many other tools that clamored for use instead. Only when the complaints intensified and the volume rose did I set down "silence" and pick up the tool called "calm, brief responses." When he objected to my parallel between this consequence and "forgetting" something in a real life job leading to being fired, I simply said, "I'm not going to argue. I need to go fold laundry," and made myself scarce.
Please understand that this silence thing is still a learning process for me, and definitely not easy. It goes against most moms' instincts. But when I returned from folding laundry to a clean kitchen and two kids doing their homework at the kitchen table, I decided to keep silence in the toolbox's top drawer. At least for this season.
Grace and Truth,
Katrina
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