Bamboozled!
Have you ever been enjoying a bowl of sweet cherries only to bite into a sour one that makes you pucker like a toothless old man? Life with my boys was kinda like that. I was earnestly trying to prod them into honest, hard-working, kind, and caring young gentlemen.
You know, the kind that say ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ and ‘yes, Mom, I’ll take out the garbage right away!’ That endeavor sometimes felt like pushing a wet noodle uphill. Those rascals would confound me regularly with shenanigans that would leave me spluttering.
Zeke!!” howls ten-year-old Drover from the lower-level family room puncturing my morning coffee time. “Zeke, quit hitting me!!”
I’d had to utilize a 1-2-3 Magic discipline system after an epidemic of such disruptions. Desperation sent me to the library in search of some solution to replace my frustrated yelling.
“Zeke, that’s a ‘one!’” I call to the alleged offender. If he continues to push my buttons, he could get a ‘two’ and finally a ‘three’ which gets him sent to his room to think things over for a few minutes. At least it makes me feel like I’m in control.
“Zeke! Stop it!!” screeches Drover again. I firmly call down again with an exasperated, “That’s a ‘two,’ Zeke!”
“Moooom! I didn’t do anything!” entreats Zeke indignantly.
‘Mmm hmm,’ I think, rolling my eyes, ‘and I’m the Queen of Sheba.’ “Zeke. That’s enough,” I say with all the authority I can muster.
“But Mooom…!” Zeke moans.
How did I know that Zeke was innocently reading an Archie comic the whole time? Drover, bored and restless, framed his brother for a crime. Can you believe it??! I was completely bamboozled! Is it only my kid who would think up things like this?
Do you remember tormenting your siblings? I recall one time when I was pestering my brothers. I remember the feeling of wanting them to notice me, of wanting attention. ~poke~ ~tickle~ ~poke~ They were becoming increasingly annoyed. ‘Stop looking for attention! Just grow up already!’
Was Drover seeking attention? I don’t know, but if he was, is it a bad thing? Looking in the rearview mirror, I wonder... What if he needed a hug? Or perhaps he wanted to know whether he was more important than Facebook. Did he need assurance that he was still lovable even when he was bugging the daylights out of me? What if he was hurting and needed his mom to promise him that everything would be okay?
What if I had pulled Drover into the security and warmth of my arm for a few minutes? Would that have been more effective than the 1-2-3 Magic method? ~sigh~ Did I do it all wrong, just when I thought I was finally doing it right?
You know, we moms do the best we know how. Being a mom is tough!! Kids’ actions can have us screeching like an angry parrot. We feel defeated facing aggravating behaviors that, like an ugly zit, just won’t go away.
Moms kiss boo-boos; they don’t intentionally cause them. I think, though, that wounds are inevitable and by design. Even cactus thorns and stinging bees have a purpose.
Has anyone escaped childhood without parent-inflicted emotional hurts and baggage? Therapists’ offices are filled with kids just like mine who had parents just like me who tried their darndest. I read somewhere that the greatest thing you can do for your kids is save money for their therapy, because you will screw them up.
What if you had ‘perfect’ parents who never made a mistake? That’s a difficult role-model; could you live up to that? Wow, can you imagine? Warped and bumbling parents suddenly seem like a dream come true!
It’s rough to realize how I just didn’t get it. It’s like taking aspirin for a headache but ignoring the nail sticking out of your forehead. I was busy trying to smooth jagged edges of behaviors, but I needed to gently hold the heartache, soothe the vulnerable spirit, prop up the crumbling ego and lift him up instead of pushing him down. A kid with a healthy self-worth doesn’t need attention and validation from others. No aspirin or magic discipline needed.
I sent Zeke and Drover out into the world a bit wobbly on their feet, but thankfully life has done them good. Drover and Zeke turned out to be honest, hard-working and caring gentlemen in spite of my blunders. Those rascals are still refining the art of bamboozling me. I love it.
Do you think they are biting into sour cherries now while parenting their own little munchkins? I would bet my bottom dollar! They are perhaps finding that a screeching parrot lives in their house too. Imperfect parents raising imperfect kids in an imperfect world. It’s guaranteed to be messy. Just as it’s meant to be.
