Blog a la Cart

This has always been Ashley’s sphere, and I’ve always been happy to wrangle the ladies (kids, dogs and when necessary, chickens) to allow her the time and space to write and process and exude the awesomeness that she is. So when she said I should take advantage of her absence to write here, I wasn’t sure the time would present itself. Overseeing our Farmette can be a full time gig and it doesn’t often lend itself to free time to think and reflect…But if this blog embraces anything, it’s reflection. Especially where our kids are concerned and how we choose to parent them.

Self reflection is necessary, pervasive, and at times debilitating. The self induced guilt that comes with a spilled-milk yell, or our selfish moment looking at a phone when we should have been watching their first something, their proud accomplishment, answering their question…Let me give an example.

Kaki loves to get eggs from the chicken coop. She lights up for them, and loudly declares “uh oh” if there are none. It’s adorable. No, it’s beyond adorable, it’s cute-tastic. Sunny, usually likes to come as well and this time they both had eggs in hand as we came back from the coop. Yes, I normally let them carry the eggs. Judge me. At an average of four a day, I’m ok if we lose one so it’s not a big deal… except today. Addison decided to bring them in the front door of the house, and on the last step she tripped and cracked the egg on the porch.

I yelled. She apologized.

She stood up and walked around the house to bring her unbroken egg in the back door. She followed me in, turned around and closed the door (this is something I request ALL THE TIME, especially in the winter) about 10 seconds before Courtland made it to the door.

Still mad from the mess I needed to clean in the front of the house, I scolded her for closing the door “On Courtland’s face” and asked why she had…no. I didn’t ask, I yelled…

“So the hot air doesn’t get outside and the cold air doesn’t get inside”

I should have bit my tongue, slapped myself, or just twisted my own damn titty. Honestly, how much different is a cracked egg compared to spilled milk? Why was I so upset? I ignored her completely legit answer and demanded she open the door for Courtland, IMMEDIATLEY. When she let Kaki in, Kaki tripped and there went a second egg…I lost it.

Give me the eggs. Sit down. Don’t move… Things went on this way for a few more minutes, but at no time did either one of them act badly, or do anything out of the ordinary for what you’d expect from a 1 or 3 yr old.

Hindsight is a beautiful thing, self-awareness is priceless, but neither are as important as the self-control I couldn’t muster. I was angry, I was loud, I was inappropriate.

No one can show your inner soul like your children – they humble you in an instant, make you feel embarrassment and shame through your core. I’m not talking the parental embarrassment you hear about at birthday parties. You know, Sally-threw-up-carrots-in-the-grocery-store embarrassment — no, that type is what everyone talks about because it’s not embarrassing so much as it’s a story. Haha, throw up. Grocery store. Orange vomit. Aahhh…good times. No, I’m talking true shame of the most revolting nature. It starts when you realize you embarrassed yourself; all they did was let you. It’s compounded with the recognition that you did it in front of them, your children, who think absolutely higher of you than anyone else in the world. It’s a guilt where tears do no good. It drives you to self-loathe, and generally feel like a shit-stick, fucknut. Rock Bottom of the Guilt Gully; Shame Central; A Disgraceful Parent Party – attendees: just me. I’m a bad parent.

And here’s the switch.

It took me a while, but I realized it could be worse: I could not feel guilty…I could actually think it’s ok to scold a 3 yr old for dropping an egg — worse, I could endorse scolding a 3 yr old for indirectly causing her 1 yr old sister to drop an egg.

Shame is a powerful motivator for an apology. Admitting my wrongs is right, necessary and illustrates to my kids it’s ok to own mistakes, not to mention means I’m less likely to be a sociopath. So I role model and fess up. I think most parents apologize to their kids, and I hope they continue to when they recognize an opportunity – but we can’t stop there. Apologizing is an important step, but it’s selfish – relieving the weight of shame that sits on the offender’s shoulders. If I’m to make a difference, I cannot forget what motivated me to apologize in the first place.

Which is to say, the struggle, and just one facet of what makes parenting so challenging, is the next step: changing. Holding on to that motivation in the distractions of every day life to commit to and act on making a shift. Therein lies the rub.

Kids change you; they directly alter the way you interact with and perceive the world. No parent, no person would argue that. But this is just one of the ways where they remind you that you can change of your own volition. Not because of them, but for them. And ultimately for yourself. It’s moments of self-reflection that allow you to see who you are, and more importantly how you can improve.

So, how do I minimize the chance of me flying off the handle again? What can I do for myself?

There are tips and tricks abound on the interwebness; some of them even worth trying. I’ve read a few APA studies on yelling and how awesome it is not. Perhaps that knowledge, in and of itself, will help. But really, there are more questions than answers. Who will hold me accountable? Me? How? Is there a way I can enlist Addison’s help, since she’s the other major player in this equation? What if my tactics don’t work? Where can I find new ideas? How does Ashley and our relationship come into play with this? Mine and Courtland’s? Addison’s and Courtland’s? Should I start meditating? Or should we just eat less eggs?

Ultimately, every change takes time and determination. I expect I’ll yell at them again for something not worth it, but I refuse to resign myself to that as something that can become a regular behavior. Hopefully through actions and reflections, like this one here on ye ‘ol blog of reflections, I will be able to change myself just enough to change their world.