Inner Rebel / Parental Reading

Tonight I met with a lovely bunch of moms (fast becoming my favorite group of people!) and we talked about Not Liking to be Told What to Do. I was thrilled to discover that I am not the only one who gets turned off by salesmen. Sometimes if someone tells me to do what I am already doing, it irks me so much that I want to stop. I call it my inner rebel, and I thought it was a trait from my teens being carried over to my later years. It's nice to hear that other gals have it still, too.

(And imagine how that affects our parenting! Anyway...)

My inner rebel makes it ridiculously difficult to read parenting books. Even if I love the philosophy... and agree with it... and long to soak up its encouraging words... I still just want to scoff and poke holes in every single sentence I read, simply because a book is attempting to tell me how to think.

It's true that I have started to read, but never finished, five parenting books. Most of these books I have gone back to again and again, if only to try to understand the strange concepts they present to me. I have to bash my brain around this concept of "nurturing" - what it is, and what it isn't. I am not naturally a nurturer. Add to that my skeptic inner rebel questioning the validity of everything I read, and reading becomes an arduous brain-bashing task.

Now, skepticism is healthy. I have read plenty that is worth getting rebellious over. But not in my latest book, "Peaceful Parents, Happy Kids: How to Stop Yelling and Start Connecting" by Dr. Laura Markham. Her philosophy is great. My husband read the book first.... He has put it into practice and just about overnight has become a better parent than I am. Truly! Inside a week he has transformed our household into one that is just overflowing with joy!

So I know this stuff is good and worthy. But I still just Can't. Finish. The Book. My inner rebel is going crazy.

There have been many struggles with this book. My current struggle right now is silly: Dr. Markham writes that we should all forgive our parents for their mistakes. I know deep in my heart that she is right. That forgiveness is key to my being a better, happier parent. But I also know that I want to never forgive my parents for their mistakes. I love that pain. I am clinging to it! And my inner rebel is not helping. It's like in Star Trek:The Final Frontier. Kirk says "Damnit, I need my pain!"

I started reading parenting articles in the Waldorf Parent-Tot class at Live Oak Waldorf. The first article they sent me home with was about this idea that we as parents should only tell a very young child "no" in dangerous situations. That the word "no" literally stops their brain and smothers development. This article advocated more creative wording, distractions, and engagement with a child to steer them in the right direction.

This idea was one I hated. My inner rebel was just howling in rage. But I kept coming back to it, again and again. Watching for signs of its truth or fallacy in my children. And ultimately I decided the article was correct.

Sometimes my inner rebel helps me vett out stupid ideas. Other parenting articles that were sent home were, shall I say, not my style. My inner rebel had no trouble shredding these to bits and I never looked back once.

But right now, my inner rebel is just standing in the way. And it astonishes me; I -know- I should forgive. So what's the holdup? I just don't wanna. And somehow I don't even know how to get past that.

Someone should tell me not to forgive so I can rebelliously forgive! Amirite?? Haha.

Greatest Treasure

One of my fondest memories was of my son when he was about two years old. I was watching TV and he was playing quietly on the floor near me. He turned to me and outstretched his hands with the most warm, loving, giving, happy smile I have ever seen on any human's face. Delighted he had a treasure to share with me, I held out my hands for it and purred, "For me? Oh thank you!!"  Still slightly distracted by the TV, I paused before I looked down to see what had been gifted to me.

It was a nugget the size of my fist straight out of his diaper.

To this day I still remember how charmed his face was, and how lovingly he had cradled this thing that turned out to be poo.

"One man's trash, another man's treasure" doesn't even begin to cover it. :) And doesn't it seem always that way with children? We throw out so many things they long to play with. Eggshells, empty ice cream wrappers, sticks on the lawn. My youngest son used to cry every time we had Popsicles - one day I realized he was crying every time I threw out the empty wrapper.

I will never know quite why, in that moment, my son decided that his giant poo was the greatest thing in the world. But my tolerance of his own strange perceptions is constantly being challenged. So many times he says something that is untrue - and I am so used to deeming untruths as not valuable that I discount his perceptions. I throw them away.

It's not a very nurturing instinct, to throw away his understanding of the world. Much better for me to help him work through the world on his level. When I can manage to admire the poo for a while, he's much more cooperative with me when the time comes to put it where it belongs and wave to it cheerfully as we flush it.

It's true of all his perceptions. I can see that my youngest is happy in the sandbox, but yet my oldest is convinced the baby is gunning for all his toys. No matter what I say I can't change that perception. I know this, but I try anyway to flush away the inaccurate view. Instead I need to go along with his perception, and teach him the words to use to protect his toys, so that he feels secure.

Louis CK does a funny bit about this. You can watch it here: "Pig Newtons!"