Archive for the ‘Would obedience school be cheaper? Easier?’ Category

If you see my mind, encourage it to come home. Thanks.

Wednesday, November 16th, 2011

I lost my mind earlier this morning.

My #2 child was struggling to get all her stuff and her person into the car this morning. She had bags and jackets and Lord only knows what else — not totally sure as I was in the driver’s seat, awaiting lift off — and opened her car door to discover that the seat had been flipped forward (you know, to allow easy access to the Black Pit that is the Third Row). As she was juggling her baggage, she asked her brother for help flipping the seat up. A brief war of words ensued: “Hurry up,” “I’m trying!” “Try harder!” etc., which culminated is his declaration, “I don’t have to help you; it’s not my job!”

This is where me and my mind parted ways.

Not his job? NOT HIS JOB? I turned my body around and proceeded to explain to him precisely what his job is. And I may or may not have been using my Outside Voice:

‘Not your job’? Are you kidding me? It’s your ONLY JOB. Your role as a member of this family is to help the rest of us out when we need help. Whenever we need help. Just as we would help you out.

‘Not your job’? Have you lost your mind? It is ABSOLUTELY your job to help your sister, particularly when she needs help and ESPECIALLY when she asks for it.

[By now I’m driving out of our driveway and slowly down our street. And, gifted driver that I am, I am able to direct my tirade at him directly as I have the gift of turning around at 5 MPH and using my Outside Voice.]

‘Not your job’? What do you think your job is? And if it’s not your job to help your sibling and your family, whose job is it? If that’s not your job, then it’s not my job to keep you fed, keep you clothed, celebrate your birthday, buy you Christmas presents, take you to the doctor….Those things are not my job either.

You must have lost your mind. ‘Not your job.’ You have to be kidding me. [Apparently when I lose my mind I do a lot of repeating.]

[There may have been some swearing and euphemistic language, a la “fricking” and “bullshit” — but not directed so much at him as at the windshield as I continued the rant in my Outside Voice to myself. Turns out when I lose my mind I also lose a bit of my ability censor myself. Happily the Mother of All Curse Words did not make it through the censor.]

And the finale:

You owe your sister, and me, and probably Daddy when he comes home [from London] an apology. Not your job. You have lost your mind.

I will not hold my breath for an apology; #4 is perhaps the most stubborn human being alive today. He just looked at me silently during the whole episode.

I’ve calmed down considerably, and although my Outside Voice has been put away, I pretty much stand by all that I said [with a nod to Bill Cosby, whose voice I hear in my head when I ask the rhetorical, “Have you lost your mind?”], even if I mildly regret the euphemisms and swearing.

There are two things I cling to at difficult parenting times such as these. First, more than a few people have told me — recently and not so recently — that my kids are great. They are correct, my children are great. They’re good conversationalists, they’re smart, they’re polite, and they are kind. They are really great kids. Maybe because of their parents, maybe in spite of their parents. Tough call.

Second, I’m incredibly mindful of Jackie Kennedy’s observation that “if you bungle raising your children, I don’t think whatever else you do well matters very much.” There are days when I could be almost paralyzed by the parenting responsibilities. A long time ago in a parenting program far, far away it was noted that we parents are not raising children, we are raising adults. And my husband and I are raising four of them. Those four will grow up, partner off, have children, etc. etc. etc. Talk about a ripple effect!

Author Stephen Covey — the 7 Habits guy — wrote in a book on 7 habits for families that “… if we as a society work diligently in every other area of life and neglect the family, it would be analogous to straightening deck chairs on the Titanic.” I think of that phrase a lot — and, huh, doesn’t ease the pressure at all. In fact, I have days like today when I feel that dodging the icebergs is hard work. The danger of letting the “not my job” tip of the iceberg get a bye means turning away from the invisible iceberg of self-absorption and selfishness that could potentially “sink” important values that are imperative for good adults.

[Just re-read that paragraph a million times, and suddenly thought, “Hmmm. Penn State coaching staff?”]

I’m going to go look for my mind. You keep an eye out too, please.

Hush, hush: Voices carry.

Wednesday, November 2nd, 2011

I have an aunt who is battling Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), also referred to as Lou Gehrig’s disease. ALS attacks the brain-muscle pathways, and one of the things that has begun to fail her is her ability to produce speech — there are muscles involved in speech. Sooner or later the day will come where she will be left mute, able to hear us but able to respond only in her own mind.

This impending involuntary silencing of her physical voice leads me to what I’ve been thinking about quite a bit in recent weeks: the voices that we hear in our own heads, those voices that tell us stories that validate what we do, who we are, the choices we make, our behavior. These voices require no muscles to get their message across: these voices just “are.” And I’ve been wondering, where do they come from? Where’d they get their information? Am I supposed to listen to them?  Are they right? But if they’re not right, then what?

Do I listen when those voices say things like, “Ugh, you look like you were ridden hard and put away wet. And worse, you look like after they put you away wet you decided to scarf down a dozen donuts and a milkshake while resting and drying off”? Am I supposed to believe that voice? Or do I believe the one that catches sight of me in a mirror and says, “Damn girl, that’s a good color on you….and what’s going on with your hair? It looks AWESOME!”

Which voice do I believe?

I have a voice that says, “Yikes! Math! I’m terrible at math. Please God, don’t let the kids require my help with anything more difficult than x+6=12, because if it’s up to me to figure out slope, rise, and run, we’re in trouble.” Is that voice true? Because I’ve also got a voice that says, “You are really smart. You can do just about anything, and if you can’t do it I’m sure you can figure it out. You’ve got it together, sister.”

How can they both be true? I better believe the more “realistic” voice (which is obviously the negative one, because who likes a girl that self-centered?).

We’ve all got these voices. They tell us stories about how our kids need us so much that they’d be lost without us and so of course we can’t go away with the husband for a weekend — the kids need us! They tell us stories about how our parents are getting older (not you, Mom) and can’t manage the bills/the shopping/the getting out the way they used to, and so it’s a real shame but we can’t volunteer for that organization because we’re needed elsewhere. These voices have whispered that our child’s teacher is picking on her for being unable to read fluently or write legibly but it’s because she’s a lefty and not because she needs to be evaluated. That teacher doesn’t understand the gifts of our child. The teacher is the issue, not our baby.

If we choose to question those voices, we question our very selves. And if we question ourselves, what if we don’t like what we find? What if it’s not precisely true that the kids would be miserable with a babysitter or grandma or a friend for the weekend? (What if they actually have a blast without you?) What if it’s not entirely accurate that Dad can’t pay bills without you operating the computer for him — did you ever let him do it himself? What if that little girl who’s struggling to be literate would benefit from an intervention of some kind….then what? Are you a neglectful parent? Or just blindly naïve?

How scary is it to think that my version of “me” isn’t entirely accurate?

I don’t want to lay blame for my inner voices at someone else’s feet. There’s too much dodging of responsibility going around these days anyway. It’s not Grandma’s fault or Dad’s fault or Sister Mary Angelica’s fault or my grade school best friend’s fault that I feel stupid or ugly or indespensible or controlling or naïve. Somewhere I heard a voice whisper something like that and I believed it. And lo, these many years later, I can show you evidence to support all of those things that my voices have me believe.

Shouldn’t I be able to believe the “nicer” voices? The ones that say I’ve got my act together, that I am intelligent, that my children are fine without me, that I’m wise to operate in the world with an assumption that I don’t have to control it all?

I don’t have the answer; this is something that I’ve been thinking about more and more. Is there a way that I can model my inner voice so that my children can understand the kinds of messages we get from our own selves? So that they can see that we can choose to accept or reject the message? That our behavior isn’t justified by any one story we’ve told ourselves? Can I make my “innie” an “outie?” (Or is this one more thing they’ll pretend to listen to and then say, “What? I didn’t hear what you said,” 25 seconds after I’ve said it four times over.) As my children grow and they become more independent every day, I have to be content that we’ve laid the appropriate groundwork for good decision making — and we have to be hopeful that the voices they hear are accurate and insightful and wise. (And until they start therapy, I guess we won’t know how truly well or poorly we did.)

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