Spilled milk and other such tragedies...

Four spills into dinner, I was about ready to explode. As the milk started pouring onto the floor, I jumped up to grab some paper towels and yelled at my daughter. She ran to her room and started crying. Suddenly, the old saying, “don’t cry over spilled milk,” ran through my head. It’s just milk. Yes, it was the fourth time that someone had spilled during dinner, but it’s just milk. I cleaned up the mess and went into my daughter’s room to apologize for yelling. Thankfully, my four-year-old is pretty forgiving and we were best friends again by the time we made it back to the dinner table.

 

Parenting is hard, and I don’t always feel adequate. I tend to get overly upset about some of the silliest things. Sometimes I think I spend almost as much time apologizing to my kids as they do to me. The other day I was having lunch with a woman that I was interviewing for a story. She is a licensed parent educator. I quickly realized that the notes I was taking were just as much for me as they were for the story. Towards the end of our lunch, I started lamenting about where my kids would be as teenagers.

I have worked with teens for almost fifteen years. Having spent years in youth ministry, I was once pretty good at connecting with teens and building relationships with them. After seven years at one of the best behavioral treatment facilities for troubled teens, I became an expert at discipline and teaching social skills. I often joke (but I’m actually seriously terrified) that all my experience pretty much guarantees that my children will be rebellious and difficult teenagers. Sort-of the “preacher’s kid” phenomenon.

My lunch companion, though, told me to stop that sort of thinking.

If I use all that I’ve learned and raise my kids with structure, love, discipline, and faith, I don’t have to assume the worst.

The other day, I was helping out in my son’s first grade Sunday School class. I watched in horror as one of the kids talked back to the teacher and disrupted the lesson.  The child was quick to say, “Why do I have to listen to you?” after every prompt and request. (On a more funny note…he also told us that the Bible verse was saying that 9000 boys were supposed to kiss girls.) During the entire hour, I watched my son listen quietly, raise his hand to answer questions, and follow instructions. I was SO proud.

I may not be doing everything right, but I must have my moments. So far, I haven’t completely screwed up my kids. With fingers crossed and constant prayer, I continue to fumble through parenthood. My kids might not always make it easy, but they definitely deserve my best efforts.